


bite your tongue

by Willow_bird



Series: on the tip of my tongue (say something) [4]
Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: ASL, Andrew Minyard Has Feelings, Andrew Minyard Loves Neil Josten, Andrew Minyard has friends, Andrew Minyard is the Best Boyfriend, Angst, Bad Days, Cuddling, Dissociation, Established Neil Josten/Andrew Minyard, Flashbacks, Hurt/Comfort, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, Neil Josten is a Mess, Nightmares, Non-Explicit Sexual Content, Non-Sexual Intimacy, POV Andrew Minyard, Panic Attacks, Past Child Abuse, Past Rape/Non-con, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Selective Mute Neil Josten, Sexual Tension, TMF - Too Many Feelings, Wholesome Twinyards
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-23
Updated: 2020-07-20
Packaged: 2021-03-03 18:56:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 51,888
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24880435
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Willow_bird/pseuds/Willow_bird
Summary: *This takes place during a time-skip in the final chapter of 'say something', over the course of the week before Andrew and Neil's second solo trip to the Columbia house. *A Tuesday thru Saturday chronicle of a rough week for Andrew and Neil. Sorry friends I'm really bad at summaries. The boys are super soft with each other when they aren't making me want to cry, and that's basically the whole fic.
Relationships: Aaron Minyard & Andrew Minyard, Betsy Dobson & Aaron Minyard, Betsy Dobson & Andrew Minyard, Katelyn/Aaron Minyard, Kevin Day & Andrew Minyard, Kevin Day & David Wymack, Kevin Day & Neil Josten, Neil Josten/Andrew Minyard
Series: on the tip of my tongue (say something) [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1782130
Comments: 263
Kudos: 637





	1. Tuesday

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! This fic takes place across the week before Andrew and Neil’s second solo-Saturday at the house in Columbia during [say something](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24540850). Let’s call it a… very involved ‘deleted scene’. ^^; I will warn you that it starts out very dark, but it gets better. I promise.
> 
> This fic will have 5 chapters, one for each day from Tuesday through Saturday. I have no idea how long some of these chapters are going to get and I apologize in advance. I already have chunks of each day written and since I went ahead and did a… sequel? meanwhile fic? what do I even call this? ...I figured I might as well expand on each event to give the full story. I’m also going to try a posting schedule thing? So I don’t spam you guys? Because here I said I was gonna do a bunch of one-shots and then like, here’s another multi-chapter drabble? Idk, I might change my mind because i’m impulsive and impatient af so… XD We’ll see how it goes, but I notoriously bite off way more than I can chew and have massive expectations of myself that I can never fulfill SO LETS DO THAT WITH FANFICTION TOO. 
> 
> Ugh, sorry. I’ll stop rambling now. Thank you thank you thank you for reading, comments and kudos are hugely appreciated, and I hope you enjoy!!! ^.^
> 
> [Posting Schedule: Tuesdays? Tuesdays.]
> 
> TWs: Flashbacks to/nightmares of alluded sexual abuse (non-explicit but it’s clear) where the victim was a child. Panic attacks. Dissociation.

Andrew was awake, but he wasn’t. Part of him knew that he was in his dorm room in Fox Tower. He was alone in his bed, staring up at the dark ceiling. Even though he couldn’t see it, he knew that there was a blemish in the ceiling’s shoddy paint and plasterwork right over his head that he always liked to think resembled a gun. He tried to visualize it now, tried to trace the outline of it with his eyes because the rest of his body couldn’t move. 

Because the rest of him, the part that _wasn’t_ fully in the here and the now, was trapped under heavy hands, suffocated into grim silence by the too-sweet stench of _**his**_ breath where it panted against his cheek. His heart was beating so hard in his chest it felt like it was trying to break free - and he really couldn’t blame it for the attempt at escape. A choked sound locked in his throat. His eyes were burning. He’d tell himself that the fiery sensation was caused by the daggers of his rage, painted point-to-hilt with the poison of his hate, but his body knew the truth. The dryness in his mouth that made his tongue swell and stick to the roof of his mouth, his throat constricted and stuffed with dry grass and brittle kindling, was panic. The cold, aching stones in his lungs were formed from raw, unadulterated fear. 

The part of Andrew that knew this was a kind of panic attack, a lingering memory brought out of a nightmare, was trying to fight. He tried to tap into his senses, but all he could see was darkness and he wasn’t awake enough to break away from the half-dreamed scent of his horror. The feel of the sheets beneath him didn’t help, because noticing that he was prone on a bed only reinforced the cycle his unconscious mind was trapped in. 

The only sound in the room was a choked, strangled gasping - each inhale the scrape of nails against a coffin’s lid, desperate, trapped, beyond all hope.

At first, Andrew assumed that the sound was coming from himself. It was an easy assumption to make, considering the fire of his nerves and the tightness in his lungs, but after a time that could have been a minute and could have been an hour he realized that the sound was coming from below him. Only able to process one thing at a time, Andrew latched onto this realization with both hands, using it to try and anchor him back in this room and away from _**that**_ one. 

By the time he’d grounded himself enough to realize that the gasping below him could only be Neil - and in fact it was likely that had been what had woken him up in the first place - the sound had shifted to slower more ragged breathing that was only slightly more controlled. 

As he listened and counted those dragged-against-the-gravel breaths, he was still fighting against the haunted cycles of his own mind. The worst of the memory had retreated back into it’s nightmare hole to await the next time his guard was down, but that only left him with extra awareness to notice how his own skin felt like a thick shirt three sizes too small, inflexible and unbreathable as it kept him forcibly contained. How each nerve ending sewn into the outer seams burned where fabric touched him. How every muscle in his body was strung taut with the need to _attack_ before it was too late. If anyone touched him right now, he’d go off like a shot, a spring loosed and trigger pulled, and there’d be absolutely no remorse in him for the collateral damage. 

Moving did not occur to Andrew. He was too busy trying to will his mind into that quiet, gray space in the corner of his mind where there was… nothing. A cool chamber of _nothingness_ that could blanket the jagged edges of all the more awful things that Andrew never liked to name, especially on the days where they were prevalent. Even the familiar wail of Kevin’s alarm clock couldn’t shatter through the last clinging webs of the nightmare, and he laid there as it screamed until Nicky half threw himself out of his bunk to turn it off. 

Andrew listened to the morning sounds around him, trying to use them as grounding stakes to pin him more firmly in the present: Nicky and his grumbling as he dragged himself out of the room to claim the bathroom first; Kevin as he groaned and knocked his surplus of knees and elbows into surfaces worn from the constant attention; Neil… 

There were no sounds from Neil. 

It was a struggle, but Andrew forced himself to shift on the bed. Then, after a minute, he pushed up to his forearm and scooted to the edge of his loft. The long look down to the floor made his heart jump into his throat but he welcomed the sensation because it was distinct and fresh and had nothing to do with hands on his knees and wet breathing on his throat.

He had to get up anyway, he knew this, and he knew that the day would only get worse if he let himself stay in bed - so he operated each limb like he was driving a piece of machinery and got himself out of bed and down to the floor. Neil’s eyes were open, but Andrew didn’t think he was seeing anything at first - not until they flickered up to him. 

There was a long moment of silence, where one to the other they recognized that neither of them was in a good place. Dully, Andrew wanted to reach out to Neil. It was a distant impulse, one that was fighting to be recognized behind layers of festering cobwebs and the knowledge that he was in absolutely no shape to offer even the barest amount of what might be considered comfort. He was an empty barrel, scraped dry and stained brown with old blood that still held its stink where it married to the rotted wood. 

Still, he could see the effort that it took for Neil to push himself up into a sitting position. He watched, either because a part of him needed to see that Neil could function or because he just didn’t have the gumption to turn away yet and face the pressure of a morning routine. Once sitting, Neil was motionless through the sounds of Kevin and Nicky in the other parts of the suite - Kevin clanging unnecessarily around the kitchen as he made coffee, the sink running in the bathroom. He only moved when the bedroom door opened again and it was to give a very sudden full-body flinch.

The hackles on the back of Andrew’s neck rose. Without thinking about the move he shifted his body slightly and took a small step toward the bed, half facing the door and also partially blocking Neil from it. It was instinct. He didn’t like his back open and exposed, and his nerves were too raw to accept a bedroom door opening behind him. The sudden and reflexive flash of Neil’s fear only heightened his body’s visceral need to respond to the threat. His mind wanted to remain frozen to avoid knocking against the sharp, inward-pointing breaks and fractures poking through the thin membrane of his psyche - but Andrew had always been physical by nature and so it was his body’s need to defend itself that would generally win out in the end.

Kevin stopped when he saw him, but he was either too tired still to register Andrew’s current state or he just didn’t know how else to respond, because all he did was grumble out a harsh, “We’re gonna be late. Get the fuck ready.” Then he turned around and went to take his turn in the bathroom now that Nicky had vacated it.

Andrew watched him go, then looked back at Neil.

Neil looked back up at him. No words were said. Andrew noticed that there were thin red lines around Neil’s throat and what little he could see of his shoulder, but the sight didn’t fully register before the other man was moving to stand up.

Andrew stepped out of his way, looked at him a moment longer, then turned to get dressed. He noticed that Neil grabbed his clothes to change in the bathroom, but he didn’t know what to think about it - so he didn’t, and instead went to go find coffee. Caffeine might help jolt him a bit more back into today, might help to smooth out the aching pins and needles in his skin caused by the contact of fabric that yesterday was just fine and this morning might as well have been sandpaper, but Andrew knew better than to lean on something as insubstantial as hope. When that bubble popped, it was poison that leached out.

*****

Andrew ghosted through the morning in the sense that he drifted from place to place without actually feeling like he manifested anywhere at all. He knew that Aaron noticed during the team’s morning workout. Not that his twin had said anything to him at all, but he’d also stepped between him and Wymack when the coach had noticed he wasn’t bothering to even pretend to participate and was barely spotting his brother during his own reps. If any words were exchanged Andrew wasn’t present enough to register them, but the coach had wandered away after that and hadn’t come back. Kevin lingered closeby as well, doing his own workout and occasionally trying to interact but not pushing like he normally would have. If he had the energy to be grateful he would have made fun of him for it. 

As it were, it was all he could do to keep his body moving from station to station. Even so, there were two times that his attention was pulled into the present long enough to latch onto something and both those times it was Neil. 

The first time was when he moved away from the hovering protection of Matthew Boyd to get a drink of water and Jack came up beside him; Andrew was too far away to hear what was said, but he saw the way Neil froze - and he noticed that he stayed frozen for several long minutes after a smirking Jack walked away. Andrew hadn't consciously decided to move toward the striker when he was already halfway there and was being cut off as Boyd almost knocked him over moving past him. He stopped, going still himself, and watched as Matt went to Neil instead. He watched as Neil flinched when Matt touched his shoulder. He watched as the small striker turned to face the much larger backliner and caught Andrew's gaze around the other man’s bulk. For a long moment they just stared at each other. Matt was talking to Neil but Andrew didn't know what he was saying and he didn't really think Neil did either. Finally, Neil's lips twitched, a wry, pained attempt at reassurance curling at the edge of his mouth.

Andrew waited a beat. His whole world in that moment was the other man's frail, gaunt eyes - hollow and shaken and too much like a mirror, reflecting the wasteland of his _self_ back at him. His chest suddenly felt tight again, and when Neil broke their stare to look at Matt, Andrew turned away. Aaron didn't say anything upon his return, but Andrew knew he'd been watching him for the whole exchange. 

The second time Neil caught his attention when the striker crossed the weight room and headed into the locker room alone - leaving Boyd lingering near the free-weights, looking distinctly lost, his mouth pursed in worry. A glance at the clock told him that there was still almost twenty minutes left of morning practice. Andrew was watching again. Watching from the inside that might as well be the outside. Watching from within a cellophane ward that had the tension of spider-silk, fine and strong. Invisible. Impassable. Invincible. He was watching when Boyd turned and saw him, watching as the man started moving forward, watching as Aaron blocked him from getting any closer, watching as Nicky and Kevin moved in to join him a second later. He watched the barrier surround him, like chain-links in a fence keeping the dog in the yard and the dogcatcher on the street. 

He knew there were words being exchanged, but he couldn't process them. A part of him registered the rising tension; he knew because he could feel the familiar stitching of his armbands under his fingertips, which meant he was touching them, which meant a part of him sensed potential danger. But his mind, his watching watching watching mind could only see the defensive line _( **his** defensive line)_ taking their position before him. Something was wrong there, but he couldn’t place what it was. Maybe a lot of things were wrong there. 

Either way, all he could think about was this: One - In every lifetime, every world, every possibility that an Andrew Minyard had ever existed, there was no one to defend him when he was vulnerable and yet here was a multi-human shield before him. They didn't have any insight, had no clue what was going on with him right now - but they didn't need to know. They were just… there. He knew that if Neil was in the room right now, if he was even remotely capable himself, he would have joined that lineup and even Aaron would not have questioned him. Because they were his, they were Andrew's, and apparently… apparently he was theirs.

Now, he didn't have much capacity to ruminate on anything past the basest realization of it, but it was there - blatant as day before him. He accepted it and let his gaze move away from the standoff or the confrontation or whatever was happening between his group and Matthew Boyd and whoever else had joined in (he thought he heard more voices but the other pressing thought in the central focus of his mind was too important, too all-encompassing, and he couldn't think of anything else).

Two - which was less a realization than it was a question. A heavy, terrible, unanswerable question:

Where was Neil's human shield? Where was his barrier? Where was his silent, unquestioning, steadfast forcefield? If Andrew, against all odds, somehow had one on this day - on _this day_ when nothing was aligned quite right - where was Neil's?

Andrew didn't remember moving, but he did notice when he arrived in the locker room and found that it was empty.

*****

Andrew didn’t see Neil again until afternoon break. He texted him from the locker room and all he got in response was a single fox-faced emoji that had a black ‘x’ in place of a mouth. Taking this to mean that even texting was hard for Neil, Andrew sent off one more text ( _remember ur allowed to hide_ ) and wasn’t surprised when there was no reply. 

He did take his own advice, though. Once they returned to Fox Tower after morning practice, Andrew just couldn’t bring himself to leave again. He couldn’t much bring himself to move. Instead, he sat on the couch and stared at the blank tv screen, his sense of the world around him unreliable and fluctuating in degree from being a world away and more-or-less present. Everyone left him alone, and when he was present he was relieved of this fact. 

When he wasn’t he didn’t much care or feel anything at all. He barely even _was_ , but that was better than being back _**there**_.

_(Hands, too warm and in too many places: the center of his chest, holding him down making him look, crushing him crushing him keeping him in place; over his mouth, suffocating him with the overly pungent punch of cheap snuff that permanently stained his fingernails and yellowed his teeth; on his knees, his hands always looked the biggest when they curled over his knees, fingers digging in like blunt talons to leave a circle of bruises that would later be sung away to the tune of boys will be boys will be boys will be boys will be boys will be boys....)_

Andrew only noticed that Neil had returned to the dorm when the slim shadow of him stepped directly into his line of vision. Even through the haze of not-quite-here, Andrew knew this person. He felt a spark of _something_ , but _something_ wasn’t welcome right now because he could barely tolerate _nothing_. His whole body tensed and he bared his teeth in silent warning. 

Neil didn’t say anything, he just held up his phone. It was open to Bee’s contact. When Andrew didn’t respond, Neil just pointed to the softly glowing green call icon on the screen, then set the phone down on the couch beside him and moved away without touching him and without saying a word. Somewhere around the dorm, a door opened and closed - then there was the sound of a lock sliding into place - but Andrew didn’t know which door it was because he was too busy staring at the phone. 

A strange panic broke through the haze of his not-quite-consciousness when the screen dimmed. He reached over and lightly brushed his thumb over it. Somewhere in his logical mind, he knew that if the screen went dark all he’d have to do was tap the button to turn it on again. Even if it timed out long enough for it to lock, it wasn’t like he didn’t know Neil’s passcode - he’d set it himself and it was the same as his own. Still, the _logical_ part of Andrew’s brain wasn’t particularly in control right now and from its current prison it’s expletive-riddled lectures were little more than sharp whispers scraping against the shuttered windows of his mind as the panic that seized him instead very confidently reminded him that if he let that screen go dark the lifeline it offered would be gone before he even fully realized what it was. 

Andrew didn’t know how many times he swiped at the screen to keep it lit, or how long he sat there staring at it. He didn’t know when he would have eventually pressed the call button on his own, either - because it was an accident when he _did_ press it during one of the quick swipes to keep the screen from going to sleep. The change in the screen jarred him a little bit out of his semi-trance and he snatched up the phone as it rang, bringing it to his ear.

“Neil?”

Bee. It was Bee. Familiar Bee. Safe-place Bee. “No.”

“Andrew,” Bee corrected after a short pause, her tone warm. He could hear that neutral smile of hers. Peaceful, though he knew sometimes he thought it was annoying. “Are you alright?”

“...no.”

“Thank you for calling me, Andrew. I know that’s not always easy to do, especially on hard days.” She must recognize something in his voice, to know that it was a hard day, though to his own ears it sounded flat and normal. “Can you tell me where you are?” He knew that she didn’t just mean physical location and it took a few minutes for him to find all of the words and put them in the right order. Distantly, distractedly, he wondered if maybe that’s was it was like for Neil when he lost his words - except there was always something else in the tension of Neil’s throat that had Andrew adding some mines and violent traps hidden along the pathways to the other man’s missing words - where his own were just being absent minded in that they wandered off without telling him where they went. 

“In the dorm,” he started, because it was easier to start with what was in front of him. 

“Is it cold in the dorm today?” Bee asked conversationally. 

Andrew had to pause and think, he had to pay attention to the room around him. He had to notice what he was wearing to see if it was a factor. It took some time for him to catalog all of these things (the soft, worn sweatshirt and sweatpants; the slight chill in his hands; the buzz of the air conditioner even though the weather was already getting cooler). 

“Sort of,” he said, and his own voice sounded closer than it had been a few minutes ago. He felt more present inside his own body. He blinked a few times and looked around, noticing the dorm was empty even though he felt like there should be someone else here right now.

“Do you think you can make yourself some hot chocolate? It might warm you up a little bit and, well, it’s always the right time for chocolate don’t you think?”

Andrew nodded, because this was a very reasonable comment. “Yeah.” Hot chocolate sounded good and suddenly he craved it actively - and the want for it filled up the empty chasm inside him until the only thing he could think about was having some. It was enough to get him standing, and once he was standing it was easier to move into the kitchen. He was an object in motion now, instead of an object at rest, and so he was able to stay in motion. 

Bee chatted to him while he made the hot chocolate, and he would occasionally respond - though usually it was just with a grunt or another noncommittal noise. Bee never seemed to mind, though. 

“Is Neil with you?” Bee asked lightly as he mixed the hot chocolate with the hot water, adding an extra scoop of the powder for a deeper chocolateness. 

Andrew paused before he responded, then continued mixing. “No. He gave me his phone with your contact open and then he disappeared. I don’t know where he is.” That bothered him, and now that he was back in his own body a little bit more, back in the present, capable of a bit more active thought, he also remembered the gym this morning. Something that felt almost like guilt tied a knot between his lungs and his gut, but it didn’t have quite the right level of acidity. He realized it was worry. 

“He’s having a bad day, too,” Andrew said before he could rethink the admission. “I think he’s alone.” Before Bee could ask, he continued with, “I don’t like that. But I don’t know what to do about it. I don’t think I can. Not… like this.” Oh, no. He didn’t like this feeling at all. There was an impulse to retreat from it, to bare his teeth and brandish his knives and make it _go away_ because this was exactly the reason why he tried to keep Neil as much of a _nothing_ as fucking possible. Because this feeling was helplessness and once it sunk in its talons it did not like to let go.

Bee started talking and Andrew latched onto her words if only so that he could distract himself from the impending spiral of his own thoughts. 

“That’s okay, Andrew. I know this was one of your worries when you realized that you and Neil were leaning on each other more emotionally.” He hadn’t actually told her in so many words that he was afraid of what would happen if they both had a bad day at the same time - that he was worried they might set each other off, make things worse, or just… not be able to be there for each other like they’d been getting accustomed to; that he was worried about what that might mean. But Bee, good ole Bee, she didn’t need to be told. 

“The important thing today is for you to take care of yourself to the best of your ability and trust that Neil is doing the same,” she was saying. “Sometimes the hardest thing to come to terms with when you care about someone is the simple truth that there will be times when you cannot be there for them, no matter how much you want to be. You know by now that sometimes all we can do is weather the storm and pick up the pieces when it passes. We take shelter as best we can as the worst overtakes us and we work through the rest. I think Neil understands that too. The difference, now, is that the two of you will be able to come together when the storm passes and perhaps help each other pick up those pieces. And you know I’ll always be right here to help as well.”

Maybe to some people this would seem disappointing, to hear their therapist basically say ‘yeah, there’s really nothing you can do about that so you’ll just have to stick it out until it’s over and deal with it later’ - but to Andrew it was almost comforting. Bee was reminding him that he’d ‘weathered these storms’ before, and had always come out on the other side, had always picked up the pieces. It was exhausting sometimes, but there was a fragile thing inside him right now that he refused to name lest the darkness find it and snuff it out - a small and fragile thing that made that proverbial light at the end of the tunnel glow just enough to remind him that it was there. 

“Aaron stopped Boyd from talking to me at the gym this morning,” he heard himself say almost randomly. “Him, Nicky, and Kevin. They didn’t ask about anything. They were just… there.” His tone was flat and devoid of any feeling whatsoever, and even to his own ears he might as well have been telling Bee that he just dropped his pen or something, but she knew him well enough to know that if he was bringing it up, there was a significance.

“Do you want to talk about it?” she asked gently. 

Andrew thought about that a moment, sipping his hot chocolate. “No. But maybe… tomorrow.” Tomorrow, at his and Aaron’s session. 

Bee understood the significance and hummed. Andrew could see her tapping her pen and taking down a few notes in her ever-present little notebook. “Then we’ll see how you’re feeling about it tomorrow.” He appreciated that. Appreciated that she understood that even though today he said he might be willing to talk about it tomorrow, it was entirely possible that when the moment came he couldn’t or just wouldn’t be, either because his headspace hadn’t cleared or because of half a dozen other reasons - most to do with his and Aaron’s bastardized relationship and how it fluctuated day to day. 

“Alright Andrew, I have an appointment coming up in a few minutes so I’m going to have to let you go for now. If there’s more you’d like to talk about before tomorrow’s session I do have a few openings tomorrow morning.”

“No, I’ve got it handled.” The words came out on a scoff and he could hear Bee’s smile again when she responded.

“If you change your mind, just shoot me a text and I’ll get you - or you and Neil, if you like - in. Take care of yourself, Andrew.”

Andrew hummed noncommittally, though they both knew he’d listen to her advice, and hung up. He set the phone on the counter and leaned back against it to finish his hot chocolate, though his gaze continued to stray back to where the device sat. He was more firmly in his own present-day body, but he was still unsettled and was now starting to get a headache. Which, he realized as he finished the chocolatey dregs of his cocoa and brought the mug to the sink to wash, was probably because he hadn’t eaten much (anything?) yet today. On bad days (granted, he hadn’t had a day _this_ bad in a long time), it was usually Neil who calmly set crackers or grits or other easily-digested bland food in his path so that he’d eat something. 

But today, Neil had only handed him his phone with Bee’s contact pulled up. Andrew didn’t know which demons were hunting Neil today, but he’d still seen Andrew. He’d still seen _him_ and had worried for _him_ and had done what was probably the only thing he _could_ do to try and help him - which was hand over the phone with Bee’s number pulled up. 

Andrew pulled down a package of crackers and studied it for a moment before opening it and eating half without really tasting them. Bee was right. They had to weather the storm - then they could pick up the pieces once the worst had passed. He’d done it a hundred thousand times before and he’d do it a hundred thousand more, and he knew Neil was the same. Just, now, when the storm had finished its raging and the skies cleared a little bit, leaving them gasping for breath and exhausted from the battering gales, they’d be able to help each other pick up and protect those battered, broken bits that got swept away and tossed about during the storm. 

As Andrew worked his way through the other half of the package, he pushed away from the counter and snagged a pear from the bowl on the little kitchen table. He balanced it in the hand holding his crackers and also grabbed Neil’s phone before moving over to his desk. There were several books scattered about and an open notebook filled with Neil’s hastily scrawled notes. Andrew left the pear and the phone sitting on top of the notebook but didn’t bother leaving a note before returning to his spot on the couch to _actually_ watch some tv. He knew that Neil would understand his message.

_Take care of yourself, rabbit. I’ll see you on the other side._

*****

When Kevin came back from his afternoon classes he seemed to realize that Andrew was more present than he’d been this morning because he paused at the edge of the living room and stared at him for long enough that Andrew almost threw something at him. However, the closest things for him to throw were either a pillow (ineffective) or the clicker for the tv (they’d already broken two this month). Andrew settled for heaving a sigh and looking at him directly, throwing mental paperweights instead - those were sturdy and could do some damage. 

“What?”

Kevin blinked. “Oh good. You’re back.”

He wasn’t wrong, but he wasn’t as right as he probably thought he was either. Andrew shrugged. He didn’t need to explain himself to anyone. 

“What’s going on with you and Neil?”

Andrew raised a brow. “You’ll have to be more specific. Didn’t expect you’d want a play-by-play, though.” He knew what Kevin meant, but he didn’t appreciate him poking his nose into places where it didn’t belong and sure as fuck hadn’t been invited.

Flustered, Kevin turned slightly pink and huffed out a swift, harsh breath. For a moment, Andrew thought he’d let it go. The striker was wearing his ‘I’m going to storm off’ face. 

He didn’t storm off though, he stormed forward and threw himself into the armchair.

“Drama queen.”

Kevin glared at him with all the intensity of a bull in a Valentine’s Day parade. Andrew ignored it easily and shrugged. Just because Andrew approved of the decision to mark over the tattoo on his face, and he even rather respected Day’s choice of replacement, didn’t mean he was going to hold back. Really, Kevin had done it to himself and had no room to complain.

“Look, both you and Neil were off this morning and Neil _left practice_. He can’t be doing that.”

Andrew rolled his eyes. “It was just a workout session, Kevin. Unclench already.”

“No! It may have been a workout practice but it was still practice! Andrew, if Neil slacks off--”

“He isn’t fucking slacking off Kevin, and you need to fucking _back_ off - now.” Andrew’s tone was as casual as the knives he wore beneath his wristbands. When Kevin looked like he was going to continue to press, Andrew shifted in his seat to face him more fully, leaning forward slightly. “Do you really think so little of him?” he asked flat out.

Kevin looked startled by the question. “Wha-what?”

Andrew just waited. Kevin had heard him. He wouldn’t repeat it and he wouldn’t take it back, either. When Keivn seemed to realize this, his expression twisted. There were too many emotions that flashed over his face just then, and Andrew wasn’t versed enough in any of them to be sure of any definitions. 

The silence stretched until Andrew thought that Kevin wouldn’t answer at all. He turned back to the tv, not even remotely in the mood to push the striker any more than he already had. Honestly, he probably wasn’t in the right space to handle pushing him at all - but he was raw today and his mind kept wandering to his own personal defense squadron and that empty locker room.

“I can’t go easy on him, Andrew.” Kevin’s voice was quiet and as even as he could make it. “Jean and I, we’ve already proven ourselves as reliable investments over years and years with the Ravens. Neil is a risk and a wild card. All it will take is one slip-up, and… they’ll cut their losses. He isn’t going to get another chance. He shouldn’t have gotten _this_ chance.”

Right now was not the time or the place for this argument. Andrew didn’t have the right headspace for it and he didn’t trust himself not to accidentally reveal more of Neil’s vulnerabilities to Kevin. Neil, who was still figuring out what it meant to be a real person - who was still adjusting to the idea of having an identity other than ‘runaway’ or ‘survivor’ or ‘deadman’ or ‘martyr’. Neil who was finally, _finally_ starting to accept that even the facet of him called ‘fox’ could be more than just a striking arm on the court and that he was allowed to have that. 

Andrew suddenly remembered his vaguely dissociated revelation this morning - when Aaron, Nicky, and Kevin had stepped up like a defensive line to physically shield him from the attention and probably consternation of Boyd and the others. He remembered noting it and then moving on, unable to pick it apart at the time. He didn’t have the energy to do that now, either - but he was able to figure out why part of that had felt so _wrong_ , and not just out of incredulity.

It was because of Kevin. Kevin wasn’t a defenseman. He was offense, and he’d stepped outside of his role this morning. Andrew hated exy, but fuck if it didn’t fit the situation. No - things had always worked a particular way between him and the two strikers, starting with the deals he had made the two of them but the dynamic had infused its way into their friendship even now that those were over. Andrew was the wall, he was the shield, he was defense. Neil and Kevin had their own relationship. They were partners, they pushed each other and picked up the slack when the other faltered and the defense couldn’t be there. It’s what got Neil into so much fucking trouble on how many occasions? Because Neil had always been picking up Kevin’s slack (even when he should have left it to the defense), but offense is loud and offense fights and they were faced off against powers bigger and scarier than any of them could really combat on their own. 

Today Andrew’s defensive line stepped up and held position. Neil’s partner failed to do the same. Maybe it wasn’t fair of Andrew to put that pressure on Kevin, that level of expectation - especially since he hadn’t realized he’d even had those expectations until just now, but Andrew rarely cared for fairness and right now he was realizing that he had _trusted_ Kevin to be there for Neil if he couldn’t be. Instead, Kevin had done what he’d always done, and he’d followed the lead of those around him when he _should_ have been supporting his partner. No, this wasn’t the time for this argument, but it was going to fucking happen at some point because none of that sat well with Andrew and while he was willing to internalize and overlook something like broken expectations when it came to himself he couldn’t when it had to do with Neil - just like he wouldn’t be able to just ignore it if it had been Kevin or Aaron or Nicky.

“He knows that,” he deadpanned instead of getting into it. Because of fucking course Neil knew that. “You’re the one that bitches the loudest whenever he pulls his junkie bullshit and tries to play when injured. He made the right call this morning and if he doesn’t show up tonight for practice that’ll be the right call too.”

Kevin looked incredulous. “But he’s _fine._ ”

Andrew almost knifed him right there, but he didn’t. He just fixed Kevin with a cold stare and stood up, tossing the clicker into the striker’s lap. “Is he?”

Kevin seemed to realize what he’d just said because he flinched. “Andrew, wait.” Andrew paused on his way to the door but didn’t look over at him. “I know he isn’t… fine, I mean. I know that. But we’re Foxes. _None_ of us are fine. What happens if he has a bad day on a game day and because he’s let himself cop out before he just can’t handle it. Or worse, he decides not to play at all when he _can?_ ”

As calmly as he could, with as little inflection as possible, Andrew spoke without turning around. “Kevin, are you a mental health professional?”

“Uh, no, but…”

“Then shut. _The fuck_. Up.” Then he left, slamming the door so hard the wall shook. He ignored the bewildered look of a passing freshman and made his way to the stairs so he could head up to the roof. He needed a fucking cigarette.

*****

When Neil didn’t show up for dinner and wasn’t able to respond to any texts because his phone was still sitting on his desk where Andrew had left it earlier this afternoon, Kevin made the executive decision that they were all going to the court early to see if he was there. No one was willing to voice any worries but when even Aaron didn’t so much as blink when Kevin suddenly stood up and announced they were heading to the court, Andrew knew they were all feeling _something_ at the other striker’s sudden scarcity. 

Andrew didn’t analyze what _his_ feelings were on the matter, because they would help exactly no one.

He’d just come back down from the roof for the second time and Neil hadn’t been up there. Since he wasn’t in the dorm - that meant he was either at the library or at the court. All of his books and his backpack and any schoolwork he might have had was all on his desk, so he probably wasn’t at the library. Which meant he had to be at the court. If he wasn’t… well, they’d cross that bridge if they came to it. 

No one commented on Andrew’s aggressive driving as he brought them to the court in the Maserati. Once they arrived, Kevin unlocked and keyed them into the building and the four of them headed directly into the stadium. 

“See! I knew he was here!” Nicky let out a wispy laugh, his relief palpable as they entered the stadium to the unmistakable sound of balls being whipped around the court one after another. “He probably just got here a bit early to make up for leaving practice early this morning.” He turned his head toward Andrew, probably to ask him if he knew _why_ Neil left early this morning, but stopped as they finally came into view of the inner court. 

Just like they expected, Neil was by himself within the plexiglass of the inner court - but it was instantly apparent that he hadn’t just gotten there ‘a little bit early’. The man down on that court had clearly been there for hours already, soaked with sweat and shaking with exhaustion. Andrew knew immediately that when Neil had left earlier this afternoon, he’d come directly to the court. That meant that he’d been at it for _at least_ five hours if not longer, because Andrew wasn’t exactly sure of what time it was when he’d seen him last. Time had been hazy this afternoon. 

Andrew didn’t look at Kevin when he said, his voice dripping with ice-cold venom, “Still think he’s _slacking?”_

After a heavy beat of silence broken up only by the repetitive slap of the ball against the walls of the court below, Andrew turned to look at Kevin and saw that the man still looked like he’d just been slapped. He was frozen that way. Andrew absently wondered if actually being hit in the face would knock him out of it. 

“How… shit, how long do you think he’s been at it?” Nicky asked awkwardly.

“It doesn’t matter. He’s stopping now.” Andrew glanced at Nicky. “Text coach and tell him that Neil is sick. He won’t be at practice tonight.” While Nicky fumbled for his phone to obey, Andrew looked to Kevin. “Get him out.”

Kevin blinked in surprise. “Wh-what? Me? Why?”

A quick step forward put Andrew in Kevin’s space, making the much taller man stumble back but Andrew didn’t let him retreat far. His skin burned at the proximity, even without the touch. He was too raw for this today, but he wasn’t going to sit back and do nothing either. “Get. Him. Out.”

Kevin grit his teeth, but after a moment he nodded and Andrew stepped back to let him go. He watched as the taller striker descended to retrieve his idiot, junkie protege. 

Andrew’s mind obsessively came back around to the responsibilities that Kevin should have known he was carrying by virtue of his connection to Neil. This one should have been more fucking obvious, though. This - this shouldn’t have to be pointed out by Andrew of all fucking people.

Because Kevin was the only person in the world who understood Neil’s relationship with exy. He was the _only person_ that felt it the same way. That meant that he was the only person who could help that stupid little junkie channel his anxiety through the bastard sport. When Andrew couldn’t be there, when Andrew was stuck in his own head or when nothing he had to offer was able to balance out the mess that was Neil’s nerves and his always-running mind - it was supposed to be _Kevin_ that got him out of it. _Kevin_ was supposed to be there, to take him to the court and to fucking _stop him_ before he pushed himself too hard. Because Neil would listen to Kevin on the exy court. He’d given him his game last year and even if he hadn’t, they were the same breed of creature and like recognizes like. Kevin saw it before anyone else did - and he recognized it for what it was and he was supposed to fucking _be there_ for Neil.

Even if everything else went over Kevin’s head, Andrew hadn’t thought he had to explain that. He thought Kevin _knew_. But when Kevin stormed up to the room after his classes this afternoon, he’d thought that Neil was slacking. It hadn’t even occurred to him that Neil would go to the court when if their positions had been reversed he’d have probably done the exact same thing. It was like he’d fucking _forgotten_ who Neil was. Which would be annoying normally, but coupled with Neil’s desperate struggle to cling to that identity? 

No. 

Andrew watched as Kevin entered the court and marched up to Neil. He couldn’t hear him but he could imagine the reaming Neil was getting as Kevin reached for his racquet and gave a sharp tug to try and wrench it away. Neil was silent, his lips didn’t move, but even from here Andrew could see the glazed fire in his eyes. Fury, but one step removed - because Neil wasn’t fully there on that court. Andrew didn’t know where he was, but it wasn’t anyplace good. He resisted the tug, but he was obviously exhausted and his grip was already failing from pushing himself too far so when Kevin tugged again he was able to rip the racquet from his hands.

That was when Andrew realized his mistake. He’d sent Kevin in because he wanted to blame Kevin for this and so it should be Kevin who cleaned it up. Except Kevin was a fucking moron and while he would have been able to help channel Neil’s issues through exy if he’d caught him earlier today, would have been able to control the insanity and pull him back before it went too far - they were already well past that line. 

It was already too late. 

Neil was so absorbed in his own head, so _trapped_ there, that he probably didn’t even register that it was _Kevin_. All he knew was that someone had interrupted him, and that person was taking away his racquet (the only positive aspect of his identity that Neil was ever able to latch onto on bad days), and likely shouting at him about how if he blew out his arms the Moriyamas were going to kill him (a very real stressor that weighed on Neil, obvious to Andrew if only because the stupid rabbit refused to acknowledge it). 

Andrew was able to know his own mistake because Neil was facing them and he could see the look on his face. He was able to _watch_ as that sharp but distant fury in Neil’s eyes went jagged and slammed into the present but also twisted and turned inward. He saw the enraged defeat in Neil’s shoulders and the way his hands shook as he forced them into fists. He saw the way his whole body _flinched_ at whatever Kevin was saying. 

There was a part of Andrew that thought Neil deserved it. It was a dark, selfish, angry part of him that was pissed at Neil for pushing himself and worrying him and hurting himself and so hurting _him_ because Andrew just _had_ to fucking decide to _care_ about the stupid little idiot. A year ago, _six months ago_ , Andrew would focus only on that part. He’d embrace it and let it become the whole truth. But even on today, even on his rawest day, he couldn’t do that anymore. 

Shoving his hands in his pockets so he wouldn’t pull his knives, he strode forward and joined Kevin and Neil on the court. 

“Why the fuck won’t you _say something_ , Neil!? This is fucking serious, you know!”

Andrew dug his hands more firmly into his pockets.

“He knows, Kevin. That’s enough.” His voice was steady, calm. Even to his own ears he sounded bored, so there must have been something on his face when Kevin whipped around because he instantly snapped his mouth shut, teeth clacking around whatever bitching had been about to escape, likely how Andrew had been the one to send him in here in the first place. Satisfied that the taller striker would hold his tongue for at least a moment, Andrew shifted his full attention to Neil. “Neil.”

Andrew watched his jaw tighten, his throat close. He could see the tension travel all the way down his body from his tongue to his knees as they jolted and locked. 

So Andrew switched languages, taking the pressure off speech and lifting his hands instead. Their mastery of the language was far from fluent, but after almost two months of regular study they could more or less converse, leaning on fingerspelling when they came to vocabulary they didn’t know yet. 

“Do you want to tell me?”

“No.”

Andrew nodded, expecting and accepting this. “No exy tonight. Enough.” The wrecked look in Neil’s eyes had something tremble and crack between his ribs but he breathed past it and shook his head. “Rest now. Play tomorrow.”

Neil’s hands lifted, then dropped, then lifted again, then dropped. He let out a rasped breath and dragged those long, scarred fingers through his hair so violently it was a wonder he didn’t rip any out. “I can’t,” he signed, his gestures small but almost too sharp, too cutting. 

“Why?”

“Because I am nothing. Nothing. **N-o-t-h-i-n-g.** Nothing!” Each reiteration of the word was harsher, sharper, faster. The third time he spelled it out with slow, hard jabs for emphasis and his teeth were gnashing around sharp gasps by the time he signed it the final time. He slapped both hands to his chest hard enough he’d probably bruise himself. “Me. I’m _nothing._ I should be nothing. Should be no one.”

Andrew clung to the added qualification like a lifeline, his own gestures firm and slow and as calm as he could make them - but his heart was rabbiting between his lungs like the wolf was at the door. “But you aren’t nothing. You aren’t no one. Neil.” When the striker sucked in a sharp breath at the deliberate letters of his name, Andrew did it again. “Neil.” He did it again, but this time he did a two-handed sign for ‘rabbit’ and brought his lower hand down into an ‘n’ before spelling out his name. He did it again, and this time wove the ‘l’ into the symbol for ‘exy’. He did it again and rounded the ‘l’ directly into an ‘f’ and brought it up to his face for the fox sign. He did it again and this time he just put ‘my’ before it. 

Andrew didn’t know enough about ASL to know how to properly construct a namesign. He wasn’t deaf, he wasn’t a part of the community, and he was aware that it was some kind of faux-pas to do that kind of shit on your own, but right now that wasn’t what he was doing. For all he knew he was actually signing some really weird and incomprehensible shit - but he didn’t _care_. What he cared about was showing Neil that _“should”_ didn’t fucking matter because he _was_ someone. He wasn’t nothing. He had never _been_ nothing. He was here now. He was Neil. He was his rabbit. He was one of the best fucking strikers in collegiate exy right now. He was a _Fox_. He was his. And he wasn’t. Fucking. Going. Anywhere. 

Andrew watched his words sink in through the arctic pools of Neil’s too-wide eyes. He watched the significance of them catch between chapped lips. He watched their acceptance roll down scarred cheeks in two round, heavy drops. One tear followed the path of a downward-slashing scar like it was carving it anew. 

There was no sound and no movement for a long moment except for the sharp, edge-of-a-knife breaths and the shallow jerks made from Neil’s chest. Neil closed his eyes and struggled with the rhythm for a while. Andrew recognized one of the breathing patterns that Bee had taught him and had gone over with Neil during one of their Monday sessions. It took a few minutes, but then his breathing smoothed and evened out. When he opened his eyes they were still too-bright, still achingly open and raw, but the defeat that had previously cowed them had been replaced with exhaustion. 

Then Neil lifted his hands and signed, “Can we go?”

Relief tore through Andrew in a sigh that he didn’t bother resisting as he nodded. “Yes. Let’s go.” When Neil’s eyes flicked to the racquet that Kevin still held, the taller striker staring at the both of them in wide-eyed shock, or amazement, or confusion, or whatever else, Andrew cleared his throat and switched to English. 

“Kevin, give him the racquet. Neil and I are leaving.”

Kevin didn’t hesitate. There was no whined protest of _’But practice…!’_ and no angry insistence that one or both of them stay, he just silently handed over the racquet and stepped a good two feet away, giving them both space. 

Neil took it and nodded to Andrew, then headed toward the door of the inner court. His step slowed only for an instant when he saw that not only were Aaron and Nicky standing there - but so was most of the team. Neil didn’t let that slow him for long Andrew saw him square his shoulders, as he opened the door and stepped through it. Neither of them could be sure how much any of the others saw, so Andrew pretended there had been nothing to see and it seemed like Neil was doing the same. 

“Neil… Hey, man are you…” Matt paused, pressing his lips closed as Neil lifted a hand in the universal sign for ‘stop’, then just shook his head and kept walking without addressing him. 

Wymack cleared his throat, the sound jarring and forced. He practically said ‘a- _hem_ ’. “Am I gonna get a fucking explanation for any of this?”

Andrew watched to make sure that Neil got to the locker room uncontested so he could change out, then he looked at the coach. “Not from me.” His voice was coolly disinterested and he kept his shoulders relaxed and weighted down to ascribe the same affectation to his body as well, chin slightly lifted in a challenge to anyone who’d dare to press the issue. He wondered if any of them knew how close he was to pulling a knife and cutting the next person who so much as _breathed_ the wrong way. 

Wymack studied him for a long moment and Andrew held his stare. Then the big man sighed and rubbed a hand over his face. “Fucking Foxes. You guys are gonna be an early grave for me, you know that?” He shook his head and raised a brow at Andrew. “You suiting up today?”

Maintaining eye contact, Andrew gave two short obviously-fake coughs. “Sorry coach, best not push it.”

These were unnecessary theatrics, but it served the purpose of distracting the rest of the Foxes from Neil’s recent vulnerable display, giving them something else to focus on. 

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Reynolds half-growled as Wymack waved a hand to dismiss him. 

Andrew didn’t stick around to hear whatever his response was or how their fearless captain chose to rally the troops and instill order. He just headed off to the locker room to wait for Neil and make sure that no one bothered him while he was getting cleaned up and ready. 

*****

Andrew drove them back to the dorm in a comfortable silence. Neil’s tension seemed to have broken, for the most part - or at least had been subdued under the weight of his own exhaustion. Having watched the heavy way the stupid little little idiot had dragged himself out to the car it was a wonder he was awake at all. He’d really fucking overdone it, and Andrew had already decided that the punishment was going to include food, a rotation of ice packs and at least two well-placed heating pads, and absolutely no movement for at least the next several hours. Hopefully, the amount of physical stress he’d put himself under would mean that Neil would actually sleep tonight - but Andrew knew better than to bank on it. 

They got up to the dorm and Andrew watched as Neil sighed and trudged toward his desk - apparently under the mistaken impression that if he wasn’t going to be doing exy, he’d be doing homework. Andrew was willing to let him get away with it until food was ready, and was about to turn to head into the kitchen himself when he saw Neil slow, then stop at the desk, staring down at something. 

When Neil turned around, he was holding the pear that Andrew had left with his phone when he’d returned it to the desk while Neil had been gone, likely pulling his stupid stunt out on the exy court. Andrew met his gaze, wondering at whatever was going on in Neil’s head. It was hard to tell at the moment. He only looked contemplative, almost confused.

And then… _there_.

Another knot in Andrew’s chest eased as Neil’s mouth softened and his eyes relaxed, summer pools of blue that traced each line in his face as he stared at him - like he was memorizing him over and over again. 

“Staring,” Andrew said quietly, and the sound of his voice didn’t jar the silence like he thought it would. Neil smiled, then, a soft and tired thing but it wasn’t fabricated. Then he lifted the pear in quiet salute and took a bite. 

Andrew had to swallow all the somethings in his chest because they were fluttering and sighing and rising up a bit too quickly. He cleared his throat to dislodge them and shook his head. “Don’t look at me like that. I’m pissed at you, you know.”

Neil’s smile shifted into something more apologetic and he nodded, his hands moving a little awkwardly because of the pear, but his words understandable. “I know. I deserve it.”

“Yes, you fucking do,” Andrew confirmed, validated. He gave a sharp nod toward the couch. “Sit the fuck down. You’re going to fucking eat dinner. Then you’re going to fucking ice your stupid muscles. You’re going to change to heating pads when I tell you. And you aren’t going to complain about what I put on the tv.”

Wide eyes met the list of demands and Andrew pointed a sharp finger at his stupid little rabbit. “Got it?”

Neil frowned, moving closer but only to set the pear down so he could use both hands more easily. There had to be a way for fluent ASL speakers to work around having something in their hands, but neither of them had figured it out yet. Even if they didn’t need both hands for the sign it just felt awkward and distracting. 

“You don’t have to do this,” Neil said slowly, lips moving slightly as he mouthed along like he did when he wanted to make sure Andrew was following. 

“I know. I don’t do anything I don’t want to you. You should know that by fucking now, Josten.”

There was a frustrated huff and Neil gave him a significant look. “My bad day isn’t bigger than yours.” Andrew figured he was meaning to say ‘more important’ but he got the meaning fine. 

He shook his head and looked in toward the kitchen for a moment in thought, then looked at Neil again. “It’s not. And I’m not saying I’m past it, but I’m better than I was this morning. Better than I was this afternoon.” He hesitated, then said, “Talking to Bee helped. So does this.” When Neil frowned in confusion at the last bit, Andrew shrugged. He thought about Bee and their sessions and open communication and how he and Neil were getting better at the emotional side of things, not just the physical. “I can’t touch you,” he gritted out - going for casual but aware that he failed at it, “and any closer than this,” he gestured to the few feet of distance between them, “no. But I can do this. I want to.” Then he put the ball back in Neil’s court and he asked, “Will you let me? Yes or no.”

Neil blinked, then he blinked again, then he blinked a few more times, a quick flutter that, when paired with the turn of his head and a quick inhale told Andrew that he wasn’t the only one still riding uncomfortably high on emotions right now. 

In an effort to give his rabbit a moment of privacy, Andrew turned and got the rice ready. He had it on the stove, the water lightly steaming as he searched the cabinets for a can of corn, when his attention was drawn back to Neil by the other man’s soft, slow breath and the clearing of his throat.

Andrew turned, and when their eyes met, Neil nodded. He wet his lips and then he said in a quiet, raw whisper: “Yes.”


	2. Wednesday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Andrew and Neil have a Moment (tm). Andrew and Aaron go to their usual session with Bee.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look, I warned you. I’m unhinged. At this rate, this stupid frickin’ sequel-ish thing is gonna end up longer than the original. OH WELL. I take no responsibility. Blame Andrew, it’s his POV. Also, it’s really hard to wait and post this on a specific day each week. Chapter two and I'm already cracking and posting a day early...
> 
> TWs: Somewhat graphic reference to self-harm. Reference to the general darkness from the previous chapter.

Thank _fuck_ it was Wednesday. Wednesdays meant that he didn’t have to deal with people for most of the day, and after yesterday he needed the break. There would be practice this morning - which should be tolerable in the gym, and then the appointment with Aaron that afternoon, and practice in the evening. Between all that the only other obligation he had was his and Neil’s study session, though depending on how his his stupid little idiot was feeling today he might exile him to the bedroom to fucking nap for the duration of the morning instead.

By the look of him once they’d all dragged themselves into the kitchen for coffee before practice, he was already in favor of doing just that. Neil was holding himself with the weighted tension of the physically exhausted, each step and movement taking twice the time and twice the effort to complete. 

Andrew didn’t realize he wasn’t the only one inspecting the idiot rabbit until Kevin spoke up, his voice harsh but not loud. 

“The only thing you’re doing is fucking stretching and maybe, _maybe_ some light jogging, Josten. If you so much as touch a piece of machinery or _breathe_ on a free weight I’ll have Coach bench you for the next three games.”

All eyes moved from Kevin to Neil, who looked positively livid. Andrew watched his throat work, watched his muscles bunch beneath the light fabric of the loose shirt he wore. He saw the way his fingers tightened around his mug and the way those dangerous blues flicked down at the hot liquid and then up at the other striker’s face as if considering an alternative sort of scalding since his tongue was otherwise locked up. 

“Neil,” Andrew warned lightly, and the other man looked at him now. The fury didn’t dim at all. If anything, he looked even more pissed off. Apparently he didn’t like feeling like he was being ganged up on. Too fucking bad - if he didn’t like it then he shouldn’t run himself into the fucking ground like he was trying to do himself in, one blown muscle at a time. Even after several hours of icing and warming his muscles and enforced rest last night, Neil had still needed Nicky’s help to get up off the couch when the others got back so that he could actually go to fucking bed. He’d barely been able to fucking _move_. His range of motion was considerably better today, and he was getting around fine on his own - but recovery would take three times as long if he pushed it and the stupid little rabbit _knew_ that. He was just a fucking brat and didn’t like being told what to do. 

Whatever.

Neil pouted and sulked all the way to the gym, but he didn’t argue or retaliate and when they arrived he broke off and just went straight to one of the corners where there were mats for stretching and core work. 

Andrew watched him for just a moment, just to make sure he was really going to cooperate, then he turned to Aaron with a nod so they could go on to their own workout. They didn’t talk at all today either, though Andrew was actually present throughout the entire workout unlike yesterday. He was just _drained_. Bad days like that made him feel like he’d just run a marathon even when he finally broke out of it. Regardless, the workout felt good and helped him get a bit of his energy back.

It wasn’t until they were heading out to the car after practice that Aaron turned to him and spoke - and when he did his voice was almost casual. “We on for today?”

Andrew tilted his head to glance over at his twin, wondering why he was asking. “Yeah. Why, you got plans?” his tone was dry and maybe a bit cutting but Aaron didn’t seem to take offense for once. 

His brother just shrugged. “No. Just making sure you didn’t want to take this one alone. Or just…” he paused, like he was deciding how to finish his sentence; Andrew raised his amused eyebrow. “...you know, just without me there.” 

“That’s the same thing as ‘alone’,” he deadpanned, but his confused irritation faded when Aaron flicked a glance toward the car ahead of them, right to where Neil was leaning and scrolling through something on his phone. “Oh. No. We go on Mondays.” Andrew wasn’t quite sure why he said it. Outside of their sessions with Bee, Andrew wasn’t typically in the practice with sharing _anything_ with his brother - at least nothing beyond superficial day-to-day exchanges and complaints. On top of that, it wasn’t really his place to tell anyone that Neil was going to therapy, least of all Aaron - who despite _also_ sharing therapy sessions with Andrew was probably one of the last people Neil would ever want to know.

His jaw clenched and he stopped walking, mentally cursing his stupid tired, worn-through brain for the slip. If Aaron was a dick about this…

“Oh.” A quick look at his twin showed him what his own face might have looked like if he was ever slapped with a fish. The expression quickly cleared and Aaron took a small step _forward_ instead of _away_ , which was notable because Andrew was thinking about the merits of pulling his knives to threaten his twin into silence and people usually moved away from him very, very quickly when he was thinking about his knives. But Aaron didn’t move away, he moved closer and he lowered his voice and he said, “I won’t say anything.”

Andrew just stared at him, not as surprised by the words as much as he was surprised by the way he believed them. He wasn’t used to believing Aaron when words and promises came out of mouth.

“I won’t,” Aaron insisted, his voice firm. Andrew studied him for a moment, then nodded. Aaron stepped back, and then the two brothers finished walking to the car, no more needing to be said. 

*****

Neil took his shower when they got back to the dorm, not unusual especially since he hadn’t exactly had a strenuous workout and Andrew knew he preferred to shower back at the dorm after the morning workouts when possible anyway - to the extent where he sometimes jogged back to the dorms on his own so he wouldn’t stink up the car. Andrew already had their next ASL lesson queued up when Neil finished up, stepping out into the living room freshly washed with hair slightly damp and wearing Andrew’s clothes. 

This should not be a surprising thing at this point. From time to time, especially on days where Neil wasn’t feeling quite as up to snuff as he knew the striker wished he were, Neil would show up from the bedroom wearing one of Andrew’s long-sleeved black shirts. More often, he’d go to bed wearing his own sleep clothes and when Andrew saw him the next morning he was rolling out of bed wearing Andrew’s Foxes sweatshirt. It didn’t need to be said that Andrew had always liked dressing Neil. At first it was out of necessity, because Neil had the fashion sense of a homeless person and Andrew had a reputation to uphold. 

He still clung to this excuse, but sometimes - privately, in the back of his own mind where no one else could know - he could acknowledge that there was something immensely satisfying about choosing something for Neil to wear and then getting to see his rabbit wear it. He was sure Bee would have something to _say_ about that, especially since she had almost two months of weekly appointments with them now as evidence of their relationship, but this wasn’t something he ever intended coming to light for anyone else’s observation. And that was only regarding Neil in clothes Andrew had gotten _for_ him. There was absolutely nothing complicated about the feelings that Andrew had when Neil went walking about in _his_ clothes, especially clothes that had _his name_ on it. 

Possessive. Smug. Aroused if they were both in a good mood, protective if one or the other or both of them weren’t. See? Simple.

He never _didn’t_ like the image, and now was not an exception. Andrew always noticed Neil, but he noticed him, if possible, even _more_ when he was in Andrew’s clothes. It was the nature of the beast. And right now, Neil was covered head to toe in _Andrew_. Those were Andrew’s jersey shorts, and Andrew’s No. 03 sweatshirt. He wouldn’t doubt it if the shirt he was wearing under it was also his. He might as well have been wearing a sign that said: “Yes, thank you, I am in a relationship with Andrew Minyard”. Except, this was Neil they were talking about, so the sign probably said something more like: “Andrew Minyard was here and will fucking be here tomorrow, you motherfucking piece of shit. Got a fucking problem with it? We have very heavy exy racquets and lack the impulse control that would prevent us from beating that problem right the fuck out of you.”

This thought was both amusing and satisfying. When Neil caught him looking at him he tilted his head slightly up and to the side, a small smirk curling at the edge of his mouth like he knew exactly what Andrew was thinking about. 

Andrew snorted. “I hate you.”

That only made Neil grin, and the bastard even _chuckled_ to himself as he continued his path into the kitchen. Well, that would not fucking do. _Laughter_ was unacceptable. Andrew would have to replace it with some other sound.

He set the laptop aside and stood up, moving over to where Neil had paused to lean against the counter in the kitchen, likely on his way to get something to eat. He locked him against the counter, one hand to either side of his hips, and leaned up, pausing for just a moment before their lips would touch. “Yes or no, Neil?”

“Yes.” The word was soft, barely a breath of a whisper, but there was no hesitance in it, and Andrew could feel the light tension in Neil’s body that told him he was keeping himself from leaning forward to bridge the gap himself. Always keeping himself in check, his rabbit was. 

There was that warm feeling in his chest again, light and buoyant like a balloon but filled with so much _something_ it seemed impossible that it could fly. And yet… and yet when he touched his lips to Neil’s, when he tasted his smirk and swallowed down the pleasant buzz of his rabbit’s pleased little hum, Andrew swore he was soaring. There was that familiar tug and jolt in his lower belly whenever he was up high, that swell of fear, of unknown, of _’I’m going to fall, I’m falling, I’m falling’._ That rush was chased by something hotter and hungry, something that started low but worked its way up through his body and to each extremity until he was burning with a single-minded need to _touch_ and _taste_. Then, surrounding all of that, was something softer, something quieter, something that had been there for far longer than he was willing to acknowledge it and that he had no other name for than _'Neil'_.

Andrew kept a running percentage of how much of the time he hated Neil, though by now they both knew that that _hate_ was more complicated than it first seemed. Even to Andrew, he was beginning to move past hating the way Neil could make him feel, could make him want. The hate was still there, but it burned differently. 

Here was another set of percentages:

Ninety percent of the time, Andrew wanted to touch Neil. This was a ludicrous percentage. That meant that only _ten percent_ of the time, he didn’t actively want to reach out and touch his stupid little junkie rabbit. He blamed the ridiculousness of this ratio on Neil himself and how much the idiot loved being touched, on how he leaned into everything that Andrew gave him, on how he never pulled away, on how he sighed and melted against him for something so simple as a hand on his wrist or fingers in his hair. Even when Andrew was having hard days, he usually still wanted to touch Neil in some capacity. Yesterday was bad, but not all bad days were the same kind of bad day.

Seventy percent of the time, Andrew wanted Neil to touch _him_. This… this was a lot harder to digest. Not necessarily the touching itself, but again - that number was _disgustingly_ high. Andrew had been actively revolted by the idea of anyone touching him for the longest time that the idea of wanting anyone to touch him that much was shocking and, if he were being honest with himself, mildly horrifying. 

Except… except one time Neil had asked him if he actually hated being touched, or if he just didn’t trust anyone enough to touch him. At the time he hadn’t given an answer. He’d been sort of offended and also stupidly attracted to the senseless idiot and had plenty of other things on his mind at the time. Truthfully, he hadn’t known the answer. He still wasn’t entirely sure of it. He didn’t want anyone _else_ to touch him. Even on his best days, a hand on his shoulder was grating and anything more than that was usually enough to make him want to gut a bastard. 

Unless it was Neil. 

Neil, who he trusted far more than he’d ever thought he’d have the capacity to trust. 

Andrew ate up the small sounds and sighs that hummed into his mouth as he kissed Neil, well aware of how Neil’s hands were clutching the edge of the counter right near his own. 

Neil, who even though he’d been granted blanket permission to touch him shoulders and above when they kissed and was practically vibrating with the urge to do so - kept his hands very firmly to himself right now, and Andrew knew that it was because yesterday had been a bad day and Neil didn’t want to cross any boundaries that might have erected themselves again over the course of it. 

“Idiot,” he grumbled against Neil’s lips, and even _he_ could hear the dratted affection in his voice. Neil only hummed in response and nibbled at his lower lip. Andrew snorted lightly and kissed him again, a firm press of lips, before breaking apart long enough to give him a look. After a moment of thought he begrudgingly admitted, “Neck and up only.” 

There was no disappointment in Neil, and no gloating either for having assumed correctly that perhaps those boundaries had temporarily shifted in the wake of such a hard day. He just nodded, accepting, and didn’t hesitate to lift his hands and cup Andrew’s face. That was the other part of this that was so unique to Neil. Once Andrew gave him permission, he trusted that Andrew knew what the fuck he was doing, trusted that Andrew knew his own limits and boundaries better than anyone else. 

This time Neil was the one to tug him in for the kiss and Andrew sank in willingly. This kiss was slower but no less hungry. This was a kiss he hadn’t known was possible until he had been with Neil for a while. It was a kiss that said _’forever, I will want this forever’_ and that would scare the shit out of Andrew a hell of a lot more if he were even remotely capable of thinking when Neil’s mouth was touching his. And, fuck, it was just so _fucking easy_ not to think when he was touching Neil, when he was tasting Neil, when he was hearing each one of those soft, breathless little sounds like they were being painted directly into his mind, a work of art of him and him alone to admire. 

Andrew slipped one hand under the shirt and sweatshirt Neil was wearing ( _his_ shirt and sweatshirt) to brush fingertips against the warm skin beneath. Another moan hummed into his mouth in encouragement and so his hand drifted further up, his thumb brushing over the familiar topography of Neil’s scars and the smoother divots caused by his abs. It was when he came just under his sternum that he found something unfamiliar - and there should be nothing unfamiliar about Neil’s chest to him. Andrew had mapped him, every scar, every muscle, every soft sweet spot that under clever fingers or a patient mouth could turn this man into a sighing wreck. But there was something different under his thumb here, the texture rough and flaking. 

Frowning, Andrew pulled back at the same time as Neil, who was catching his breath and the look in his eyes was something that Andrew did _not_ like.

_Shame._

His heart was suddenly pounding in his ears as he pulled his hand out from under the shirts to reach for the hem and pull it up - he needed to _see_. Something had happened. Something had happened and Andrew hadn’t known. And Neil was _ashamed_ , which meant that Neil was _hurt_ , and--

“Andrew..” Neil’s voice wasn’t much, but Andrew would recognize his name on Neil’s lips even if there wasn’t half a breath left in the whole world to carry it. 

He froze, meeting blue eyes that were at once ancient and _painfully_ young. Andrew held his ground, but he didn’t try to pull off his clothes again. He just waited for Neil to tell him to drop it or to tell him what the actual fuck was going on.

It took a long moment, a couple of minutes at least, before Neil sighed. He turned his gaze away, then reached back over his shoulders to tug the sweatshirt and shirt off in one pull. Andrew studied his face, drinking in the expression locked away in those half-hidden eyes and the too-tense mouth, before he let his gaze drop down to Neil’s chest.

Scratches. Some of them were light, but some of them were deep and gouging. They covered his chest from his lower sternum to just over his heart and up to marr the collarbone that under normal circumstances made Andrew want to touch and taste and leave very specific kinds of markings. Some of the deepest dug into the hollow of Neil’s throat. He remembered noticing lighter scratches higher around his throat yesterday, remembered picking up on that anxious tell countless times over the past several weeks. He remembered the instances of body-shyness that cropped up after bad nights and sometimes lasted for days, starting from that first morning that Neil had woken up with his words trapped under the weight of some undefined anxiety. 

Andrew had moved past the fear that it was specific to him. How could he when Neil flinched away from every touch but actively asked for Andrew’s in the same day? He was self-destructive, not an idiot. But he still hadn’t asked. He’d told himself that if Neil wanted to tell him, he would. Otherwise, it wasn’t his place to pry. 

Right now he was fucking kicking himself and a rolling, sickening anger pulsed through him, making him clench his hands at his sides. His expression went blank but he knew Neil wasn’t fooled because that stupid rabbit got that stubborn look on his face like he did when he was worrying about _Andrew_ , fussing and fretting about how _Andrew_ was feeling when he was hurting so damn fucking much by whatever was going on in his _own_ head that he was clawing his own skin to shreds.

Neil’s hands lifted, hovering by Andrew’s face, and when Andrew nodded he cupped it. His thumbs stroked over the crests of his cheeks as their eyes met. There was anger in those burning blues, and Andrew liked that a fuck of a lot better than the shame - even if that anger was directed at him. For what? Oh, this was the rabbit they were talking about here. Neil was mad at him for trying to put some of the responsibility onto himself, which was bullshit - because Andrew should have fucking noticed. He _had_ noticed! He’d noticed, and he’d done fucking nothing, which was worse than not noticing at all. He was just as fucking bad at the rest of the Foxes, with their platitudes and empty reassurances.

Andrew bared his teeth in challenge to Neil’s silent rage at his captured culpability, and Neil - that fucking brat - just scoffed. Then he shook his head and dropped one hand to lightly take Andrew’s. When Andrew didn’t pull away, he lifted it and pressed it to his chest, right over the mess of scratches that stuttered around one of the scars that was always far too close to Neil’s heart for Andrew’s peace of mind. He pressed the hand firmly against the rough wounds then leaned their foreheads together. 

Beneath his hand he could feel Neil’s heart beating. It was going quickly, picked up from their kissing or maybe the anxiety of this reveal, or maybe it was just because he was genuinely pissed at Andrew. Which, really, if that was the case - fuck him. Fuck him double for how he could feel that anger already slipping away. Being this close to Neil, feeling his breath soft against his lips and getting to watch the way those everlast eyes searched his own like the answer to every important question was hidden within them - he couldn’t hold on to the poison of even righteous anger. He couldn’t stay angry at something Neil cared about with such pointed transparency - or maybe he just couldn’t stay angry when faced with the fact that it was _him_.

Neil’s lips brushed his own, the soft flutter of an apology without the words. Andrew didn’t know if he was apologizing for hurting himself, or for hiding it, or because Andrew had seen the damage and instantly blamed himself and Neil hated even accidentally causing Andrew to doubt himself - but he knew he was accepting it when he deepened the kiss himself. He kept his hand over Neil’s quickly stepping heart and lifted the other to curl firmly around the back of his rabbit’s neck. He relished in the way he could feel Neil relax into him, and allowed his answering sigh to soothe over the ache of his frustration as he pulled them into a slow and measured kiss that was less about sating any of the desire still humming under his skin and more about just _touching_ him. 

When Neil’s other hand returned to his face, holding him like something precious and rare, Andrew let his own hands drop to his rabbit’s hips and a moment later he was easily lifting him up onto the counter. Neil gasped softly against his lips but didn’t break away, like there was a magnetism between their mouths he couldn’t fight against even if he wanted to. Instead his body bowed to keep them connected even as Andrew increased the height difference between them. He rubbed his hands lightly up Neil’s strong thighs, keeping his hands over the cool fabric of the shorts he was wearing.

He slotted himself snugly between Neil’s legs and dragged his mouth away from Neil’s so that he could trace kisses down his jaw to his neck. He skipped the usual places he liked to indulge for all the sounds they could bring out of his idiot little striker, instead going right to the hollow of his throat. He knew the moment that Neil realized what he was doing by the way his breath caught - the sound soft and short but filled with a shuddering mix of emotion and desire that Andrew was beginning to have a very particular affection for. 

Strong, elegant fingers pulled away from his jaw and cheeks to stroke up and into his hair. Andrew hummed lowly against Neil’s throat as he pressed kisses and sucked lightly over the deepest of the scratches. 

Maybe there was nothing he could do about this. Maybe this was yet another hurt that Andrew could not shield Neil from. There was nothing he could do to protect his rabbit from his own mind - especially when the storm was raging too hard and too violently for him to break through even when he knew what to look for. Even if he did, who’s to say that he wouldn’t then just make it worse? It hurt him, to see Neil in pain. He was able to recognize that now - even if he felt the anger first. He was angry because he was _hurt_ , and he was hurt because how he felt about Neil meant that he wanted to protect him, to see him safe, to see him happy and content and purring like he did when high on Andrew’s kisses and praying out his name or hyped up on adrenaline and hopping around like the stupid junkie rabbit that he was while playing his precious exy. 

Neil trembled beneath his lips as Andrew dragged his kisses down to the mess of Neil’s chest, and if he spent a little more time soothing the scratches directly over his heart he knew neither of them would say anything about it. He could feel Neil bracing himself over him, his forehead lightly resting on top of Andrew’s head and his fingers curling and stroking over and over again through the hair on the back of his head and then down his neck. Even through the change in their positions, the shift in the kind of mood that was between them, Neil still kept his hands exactly within the bounds he had been given. The somethings in his chest swelled and fluttered, sent tiny tremors through his veins that all gently whispered _Neil_ , and Andrew had to catch his breath. 

When he’d tended to each and every scratch, Andrew still couldn’t bring himself to pull away - so he rested his head lightly against Neil’s chest, and he sighed as Neil’s arms wrapped loosely around his head to hold him there. His hands clutched lightly at Neil’s waist, thumbs rubbing small circles into warm, giving skin. Letting go just didn’t seem like an option, and so he didn’t. 

They remained that way long past when both their hearts returned to neutral. Andrew, with his head against Neil’s chest, pressed himself close enough to be able to track the rate to which Neil’s gradually slowed. Then he counted the beats, and each one was a reminder that this, _this,_ was possible. Neil was here. He was here. He was _alive_. He was hurting, but he was alive. Andrew had thought he lost him once, and he was still revelling in the miracle that was Neil’s return. He _came back_ \- and as long as he was alive Andrew would patiently wait out every fucking storm and if he couldn’t shield him from a single gale or scorch of lightning then he would at least be there in the aftermath to help him pick up the pieces and bandage his wounds. 

He didn’t realize he’d wrapped his arms fully around Neil’s waist and was clinging to him tightly until Neil pressed a firm kiss to the top of his head. Andrew took a slow, deep breath and the scent of Neil flooded him. He didn’t even need to force himself to relax, it just happened naturally as that scent went right to his head. An instinctive calming activated by the warm mix of the clean, rain-scented soap Neil always used and the mellow, almost fruity bite that was all Neil. 

Andrew hummed and nuzzled against his chest before he realized what he was doing and he could _feel_ Neil smiling against his hair. He gave a soft snort at that, but still gave himself another minute before he finally pulled away. Neil sat up to let him, letting his hands drop to his lap. Andrew studied him for a moment, letting himself note that Neil looked just as relaxed and reassured as he himself felt. “One hundred and twenty-seven percent, Josten,” he grumbled without heat, rolling his eyes at Neil’s answering smile. He accepted the kiss his stupid rabbit leaned down to press against his lips, then he pulled back and stepped away. 

As Neil slipped down from the counter, Andrew found the bundle of clothes that was the shirt and sweatshirt he’d been wearing before. He’d been right - the shirt was his, too.

*****

After a small morning snack (fruit for Neil and cheese-its for Andrew), they ended up only spending part of the morning going through their ASL lesson and didn’t bother with their usual extended practice afterward. Despite not having exerted himself much during their morning workout, Neil was still exhausted from yesterday so Andrew cleared away their study materials and bundled him up with a heating pad wrapped around his lower back (stupid junkie thought he could hide the way it was bothering him and he had been _wrong_ ). 

They’d arranged themselves on the couch and Andrew read his book while Neil napped in the by-now familiar position of his head on Andrew’s lap. Andrew enjoyed this position for several reasons, as it allowed him to run his fingers through Neil’s hair (which had no right being as soft as it was after the years of trauma wrecked upon it by the cheap hair-dye the idiot had subjected it to) while keeping Neil close and protected. It also left his other hand free to be able to handle snacks, the clicker, or a book. Really, it was ideal for Wednesday-morning laziness and that’s exactly what they utilized it for now. 

After an equally lazy lunch of turkey subs, Andrew left Neil to catch up on all the homework he didn’t do last night or this morning and went to meet Aaron so they could go to their session with Bee.

Aaron was waiting for him down beside the Maserati and greeted him with a nod before sliding into the passenger seat when Andrew unlocked the car. Neither of them spoke on the way to the health center, but that wasn’t all that unusual. The silence was comfortable, though - which was becoming _less_ unusual as the weeks and months edged on. Andrew wasn’t sure if it was because he was finally building up a tolerance to his brother’s particular brand of annoying, or if Aaron was just becoming less of a bastard. Neither option seemed more feasible over the other, though, so he didn’t bother attempting to dissect it. 

When they arrived they headed right back to Bee’s office after signing in and she greeted them at the door with her usual smile. 

“Aaron, Andrew. It’s good to see you both.” 

“You too, Betsy,” Aaron mumbled in a quiet greeting of his own. Andrew didn’t bother and just headed into the room to claim his usual corner of her couch. 

“Aaron, I know last week you mentioned having a test that had been coming up that you were stressed about. How did it go?”

Andrew ignored Bee and his brother’s small talk in favor of organizing his own thoughts and cataloging exactly the brain-space he was in today. This was, admittedly, something he could have done on the way over or just kept track of during the day. It wasn’t like he hadn’t known that the session was coming or that he’d forgotten his call to Bee yesterday. At some point Bee handed him his customary hot chocolate but he barely noticed.

“What about you, Andrew?” Bee’s voice tugged him out of his own thoughts and he turned his head to look at her. When he just stared at her blankly for a moment, she smiled and clarified. “Did you have a restful morning?” Bee knew that he kept his Wednesdays clear, and she also knew that he spent the mornings almost exclusively with Neil. He thought this was her way of quietly checking in on both of them, knowing that both he and Neil had had bad days yesterday. 

Andrew shrugged, then paused and decided to give her a nod of confirmation. 

“Good,” she said with a smile. “We all need to rest every once in a while. Especially with how busy you guys always are, between school and games and practices.” She chuckled and shook her head. “I’ll admit, I wasn’t nearly that active in my school days. I doubt I’d have been able to keep up.”

Personally, Andrew thought she’d have done just fine, but he didn’t bother to say it. He only shrugged. 

“Neil mostly napped all morning. I read a book and watched tv. I can catch up on homework before practice.” He didn’t have to bring up Neil, but he felt Bee would like to know that he was doing better today too, and that he was getting at least a little bit of (Andrew-enforced) rest after yesterday. 

He did not expect Aaron to turn to him then and ask, “Is he doing better, then?”

Andrew slanted his gaze sharply to the other man, surprised at the question and ready to get angry if there was any kind of hidden jab behind it. He was a hell of a lot steadier today, but the raw wounds were tucked away under less layers than usual as he built his defenses back up. Then there was this morning, and the reveal of Neil’s scratches - he wasn’t willing to put up with Aaron making ill-crafted shots at Neil and throwing around words like ‘crazy’ or ‘weakness’ or ‘breakdown’.

Aaron either sensed the danger or was genuine in his concern because he shifted anxiously in his seat instead of getting defensive and cast a look toward Bee. Andrew looked at her too and he could tell that she was studying him, trying to see where he was at. She didn’t offer any words to either of them, though, nor did she indicate or encourage him one way or another how to respond to his brother’s probing. She was here to facilitate, as she’d said countless times by now - so she’d leave the ball in his court for now.

After another moment, he sighed and looked back to his brother. “Better than yesterday,” he acknowledged with a nod. It felt weird to talk about Neil to Aaron, especially without sharp words or sharp knives in the mix. 

“Good.” There was an awkward pause, then: “I’m glad, you know. Uh. That he’s… getting some help.” He nodded toward Bee. If she was surprised that Aaron knew about Neil’s sessions, she didn’t show it, but she did write something down on her paper.

Well, good for fucking him, but that was not a topic available for discussion. Andrew all but bared his teeth, though kept his blades courteously represented in tone only. “ _That_ ,” he reminded his brother, “is none of your fucking business.”

“You were the one who told me, asshole,” Aaron shot back with familiar venom. 

“And you said you wouldn’t say anything. Guess I should’ve known better than to trust something coming out of _your_ mouth, huh, brother?” He made the familial tie sound like an insult, though he was more pissed off at himself than he was at Aaron. Angry that he’d made the slip earlier, especially to _Aaron_ of all people.

Aaron looked incredulous. “Who the hell have I told?! Bee already knows, she’s the one fucking seeing you and your psycho little boyfriend!”

“Let’s just take a moment, here,” Bee said calmly when Andrew forcefully put down his hot chocolate and turned to fully face his brother like he was ready for combat. Both of them snapped their attention to her and she only smiled serenely. “Andrew, let’s start with you. Why are you upset with Aaron?”

“Because the lying fucker said he wouldn’t tell anyone. I never meant to fucking tell him to begin with, and the last fucking thing Neil needs right now is some asshole who hates him bringing this shit up.” He jabbed an angry finger at Aaron, glowering at his brother. “Do you have _any_ idea how difficult it was for him to be willing to see Bee to _begin_ with? And he’s starting to make progress too - and I will _not_ let you fuck this up for him.” He tried to keep out of Neil and his brother’s issues with each other - that really was not a battle he wanted to fight and the two of them could handle each other fine - but this was different. This was a problem that _he_ had caused. He still hadn’t told Neil that Aaron knew about their Monday sessions and he knew that he had to, especially if Aaron was going to go blabbing his fat fucking mouth everywhere. 

“I _didn’t_ tell anyone! And I’m not going to. God, Andrew - I’m an asshole not a fucking monster. He’s getting help that he clearly fucking needs, why would I fucking sabotage that?”

“Because you hate him,” Andrew reminded him dryly. _Because he’s close to me. Because he’s something good in my life and you want to destroy it. Because I kept you from your stupid fucking cheerleader and now you want revenge - so you’ll take it out on Neil as a way to get to me._

“I don’t hate Neil,” Aaron tried to protest, but Andrew cut him off with a scoff and a roll of his eyes. “Hey! I don’t. Look, he’s a fucking asshole, and I sure as hell don’t understand him or your relationship, nor do I fucking trust him as far as I could throw him, but I don’t hate him.”

Andrew scoffed again, leaning forward to pick up his hot chocolate so he could wash some of the bitterness down with a dose of the sweet drink. Bee apparently didn’t need his input because she kept things rolling with, “Aaron, why don’t you trust Neil?” Then she utterly ignored the glare that Andrew shot her for keeping them on the topic of Neil. And to think he’d come here with almost-benevolent feelings and an intention to fucking _open up_ or _grow_ or some shit and talk about yesterday. 

“This ought to be good,” Andrew growled snidely around his cocoa, leveling a disdainfully curious look at his brother. He was ready to hear Aaron spew some kind of ancient shit about Neil being a liar and hiding his identity, or question his motivations for being with him. Andrew was more than familiar with Aaron’s shitty issues, especially regarding all that homophobic bullshit that bitch Tilda and her bastard brother spoonfed him all his damn life that he _should_ have fucking purged the second Nicky stood up for them and took them in. He was sure Aaron could come up with some disgustingly creative spin on why Neil “I don’t swing” Josten would “suddenly” be interested in Andrew. He was curious to see how manipulative Aaron really thought Neil was. This should be entertaining for at least as long as it took for Andrew to figure out how to remove his spleen through his left nostril.

It took Aaron a moment to put his cookie-cutter little conspiracy together, his jaw working and his hands clenching like he was fighting with himself over which was the best angle. Andrew was so ready for the accusations that he absolutely did not register the words coming out of Aaron’s mouth the first time because they sounded a lot like, “I think Neil loves you,” and he was just not prepared for that.

“What?” he deadpanned, dumbstruck and more than a little lost. Distantly, he heard the gentle glide of Bee’s pen as she wrote something in her notebook but he didn’t turn to look. His full attention was on Aaron.

“I said, I think Neil loves you. And I think you love him. As much as either of you two assholes are capable of it, anyway.” He sighed, the sound rough and frustrated as he tore his fingers back through his hair. Andrew didn’t look away from him - his brain was still stumbling and churning and trying to change gears and catch the fuck up. “I just don’t trust that he’s not going to get his loud-mouthed troublemaking ass into some kind of shit again and when that happens who do you think the bad guys are gonna go after, huh? He already brought a fucking mob war on us. I don’t know what Riko was going to do to you, but he went to Evermore to try and stop it. You knew that, didn’t you? That’s why he went through all that shit.”

Wait. No. 

Go back. Rewind. 

What? 

First off, how _the fuck_ did Aaron know that? Why the fuck did Aaron _care?_ This was supposed to be about revenge or some belatedly misplaced protectiveness as a convenient guise for his shitty homophobia. What the fuck was going on? And Aaron thought that Neil loved him? And that he…?

“And back in March? I heard him as clearly as you did, Andrew - he went quietly so that those crazy fuckers didn’t hurt us - didn’t hurt _you_. Anyone he pisses off, they’re gonna know that all they have to do is threaten you, or hurt you, and they can get back at him.” Aaron made an aggrieved sound. “That idiot has zero sense of self-preservation and that is gonna end up falling on you, because he basically paints targets on his back _for fun_ and that means he’s also painting a matching one on yours.” 

After several long beats of silence, Aaron gave a huff, apparently frustrated with Andrew’s silence and lack of external reaction. Bee, familiar enough with Andrew to know that just because his expression was empty that didn’t mean his head was, lifted a hand and smiled warmly at Aaron. 

“Give your brother a few more minutes to digest all of that, Aaron. I don’t think that’s what he was expecting you to say. Let him process it.”

Aaron grumbled, but he had to give his twin some credit - he didn’t roll his eyes or push, and instead just sipped at his own hot chocolate as he waited. 

He was starting to catch up now, and Bee’s reminder as well as Aaron’s compliance helped nudge him the rest of the way into letting the whole of what Aaron had just said fully register. It took another few minutes for him to take it all in and break it apart, for him to decide how much of it he was going to believe and what the fuck he was going to do about it. Really, what he _wanted_ to do was give his brother both of his middle fingers and provoke him into storming off - because that was Predictable Asshole Aaron, and Andrew knew how to deal with Predictable Asshole Aaron. He did _not_ know what to do with Neil-Loves-You-And-I’m-Worried-It’ll-Get-You-Killed Aaron. 

“Andrew?” Bee’s voice was gentle and her expression a warm neutral when Andrew pulled out of his thoughts to look at her. Apparently he’d been quiet too long for even her. “Can you tell us what you’re thinking about?”

 _Can_ not _will_ \- a distinction she usually used with Neil, not with him, but he appreciated it either way and after a moment he gave a nod. Then, with a sigh, he looked at his brother. 

“You’re right.” There was that slapped-with-a-fish look on Aaron’s face again. He hoped he hadn’t looked that stupid when Aaron had dropped his little bomb. “Neil’s an idiot,” he clarified. “But he’s my idiot. I knew what I was getting into.” He hadn’t, not really - but he wasn’t going to make that particular distinction here. He knew that Neil was a danger-magnet when he got involved with him, and figured out he was a martyr soon enough. All the _feelings_ he’d gotten mugged by along the way were inconsequential. “He’s…” Andrew paused, searching for the right term so that Aaron knew that this thing with him and Neil, it wasn’t going anywhere, so he might as well just accept it. “He’s mine. I’m his. It just… is.”

Aaron looked at him. “I know.”

“You do?”

If anything, his brother looked… _amused_ , and that was confusing and annoying and made Andrew want to punch him. He frowned.

“Andrew, you guys aren’t exactly… subtle. I mean, I know a lot of the other Foxes can be really stupid about some shit - but I know you. Me, Nicky, Kevin - and yeah, your asshole boyfriend Neil - we know you. I know I won’t change your mind about Neil, and…” He paused and sighed, frustrated with himself as he seemed to search for words. That was fine, Andrew needed the moment to take in the statement that he was _known_ and accept that maybe it was true. That maybe Aaron and Nicky and Kevin _did_ know him, that they did accept him. That he really was theirs as much as he’d taken them in to become his. 

“...I don’t want to change your mind either,” Aaron finally continued, pulling Andrew away from his thoughts. 

Andrew raised a brow. “Are you saying that you… what, you _approve?_ That’s fucking magnanemous of you.”

“Don’t be an asshole.” Aaron rolled his eyes. “But yeah. Look. I don’t understand your relationship, but I’m not you and I’m not Neil so that’s really not surprising. Honestly, I’m really fucking glad I don’t get it because at least that means I’m not as fucked up as you two are.” Andrew flipped him off but Aaron ignored him and continued talking. “He went to Evermore and handed himself over to Riko for you. He doesn’t hesitate to defend you in front of the other Foxes when they’re being dicks. You can put up with him more than you can put up with anyone else, and you’re the same for him. So. Yeah. Do I wish that you’d picked someone less likely to get you shot, kidnapped, and/or tortured - yes. But that’s not my call, so… yeah…” He drifted off there, running out of steam as he seemed to finish saying the core of what he’d wanted to say on the matter.

There was a steady silence as Andrew studied his brother and weighed his words. “Why the change of heart, Aaron?” He didn’t bring up all the times Aaron had called Neil his ‘fuckboy’ or flung around other derogatory terms. He didn’t bring up what Aaron had said when he’d first thrown Andrew’s relationship in his face as a way to leverage him releasing his grip enough for him to date that cheerleader. He didn’t have to, he knew Aaron wasn’t stupid enough not to know what he was talking about. Clearly - if this conversation and all the revelations therein were to be believed.

Aaron pursed his lips. He looked down into his hot chocolate, then back up at him. He met his eyes - and Andrew realized that Aaron didn’t do that very often. Even when he looked at him, when he studied his face as if he were trying to mentally excavate whatever he was concealing behind his typical bored facade, he rarely actually ever met his eyes. 

“You aren’t the only one reaping the benefits of therapy and a stable support system.” When Andrew just stared at him, Aaron actually held his ground and lifted his chin a bit. “I’ve been having some extra sessions with Betsy the past couple months, and Katelyn’s been helping me through some shit.”

“Katelyn,” Andrew said, like he had no idea who the fuck he was talking about even though he knew exactly who she was. 

“My girlfriend, you asshole.” Ah, there was that far more familiar anger. 

“Right.” And here was one of those moments that Andrew hated. He hated them because they were openings - they were moments where Andrew knew he could give a little bit. He hated them because to offer up that _give_ he had to expose a weakness, and whenever he did that he risked a knife right between the ribs. Offer an inch and they take a mile, right? And Aaron was good at grabbing for the mile.

And yet… Aaron had given first, today - and that wasn’t something that happened often. 

So Andrew took a deep drink of his cocoa and studied it as he said, “Well I guess she’s not that bad then, if she can somehow get you to pull that fat head of yours out of your ass.”

Aaron wasn’t fooled by his attempt at being a combative dick, and when Andrew looked up and over at the other man he was staring at him in what looked an awful lot like cautious hope. “Yeah,” he said with a nod, and then the fucker had the gall to smile. “Yeah, she’s amazing. She--”

Andrew held up a hand. “No. That was not an invitation. Pour your heart out to Nicky. Trust me when I say he’ll care a fuck of a lot more than I ever will.”

Aaron made a face but didn’t actually seem offended. 

There was an oddly comfortable silence for the next couple of minutes as both of them sipped at their hot chocolate. Andrew’s was almost gone, which was a shame, but he had more back at the dorm and he was willing to put up with Neil’s fond judgement when he paired it with a bowl of ice cream. It was Bee who finally broke the silence, but she did it with such practice that it felt natural and not jarring at all. He wondered if they taught her how to do that in shrink-school.

“I think you’ve made some huge steps today, both of you. You’re coming to understand and respect each other’s values, even when they may be different from your own, and that is a very difficult thing for _most_ people to do. I’m going to encourage you to continue to support each other even outside this space. This is very good progress and you should both be proud of yourselves.” She smiled and looked between the two of them, then over toward the clock. “We’re almost done with our time today, but is there anything else either of you would like to say before we wind down?” Her gaze went first to Aaron, then settled on Andrew.

He thought about it for a moment, just a moment, then sighed and nodded. Might as fucking well. Bee smiled, because she knew what he was going to talk about and had the audacity to be proud of him. 

Aaron looked at him, and he could tell his brother was curious and maybe a little wary. Andrew sighed. If he kept being this fucking soft he was going to ruin his reputation and no one would take him seriously anymore. This whole _growth_ thing had some serious drawbacks and he would like to file a fucking complaint. 

“Yesterday, when I was having a bad day,” he started, his thumb flicking down over the irritated nose of the cat face on his mug. Aaron nodded, and Andrew just shot him a glare, because he didn’t need his fucking _encouragement_. “You made sure no one bothered me. You, Nicky, and even Kevin.” Aaron was frowning, like he didn’t get where this was going - because apparently despite all of the _soul-searching_ his bouncy little girlfriend had helped him with he was still a fucking idiot. “Look, I’m not going to wax on poetically about it. I just wanted to say that I noticed. It’s hard for me to notice much on those days. Time doesn’t always make sense and I don’t always even recognize the people around me. But I was able to see that you guys were… there. That you kept me…” he gritted his teeth, but there was really only one word that he could use “...safe. I’m not going to fucking thank you. But. I appreciate it.”

He didn’t wait for Aaron to absorb that, he just set his mug down and stood, pointing at the clock. “Last five are yours. I’m done. See you at the car.” Then he nodded to Bee and left. He didn’t even slam the door behind him.

*****

When Aaron came out to the car at the end of the session neither of them brought up anything they’d talked about - but instead of driving them directly back to Fox Tower he asked Aaron if he had anywhere to be and after a moment nodded when Aaron asked to be taken to Katelyn’s building. They made loose plans to see each other at dinner and then Andrew left him there to return to Fox Tower and his woefully neglected homework. 

Neil was at his desk when Andrew got back to the dorm, hunched over his notebook with some kind of textbook open and half-covered by one of his arms. He was still wearing Andrew’s sweatshirt and when he heard the door open he turned and smiled at the sight of him. It was a quick, slightly tired smile, but there was a definite, genuine brightness in his eyes that always sparked whenever he saw Andrew. To think that there was someone in the whole of the world that legit _lit up_ when Andrew of all bastards walked into a room. It was bizarre. But also… nice.

 _I think Neil loves you. And I think you love him._ Aaron’s words mocked him and something must have shown on his face because Neil tilted his head curiously, his brows drawing together to ask the silent question. 

“Aaron,” Andrew answered simply, and Neil’s snort and eyeroll said _’Oh, that asshole’_ with such predictability that Andrew felt the corner of his mouth twitch up. He wondered what Neil would say if he told him that Aaron approved of him. He’d probably think he was fucking with him, or that Aaron was going to try to pull some weird practical joke. 

Apparently sated with his answer, Neil turned back to his homework and Andrew studied him for a few moments, his mind constantly ricocheting back to Aaron’s stupid words. _Love._ What the fuck did either of them know about love? The last person who’d said they’d loved him was Cass, and he’d loved her. Fuck, he’d loved her so much he’d been willing to let pieces of himself die just to keep her. He’d carved into his arms over and over again in what he now understood as a way to control _something_ about his situation, take agency of his own body in _some way_ \- though at the time all he’d known was the bite of the stolen razor blade and the flush of rage-turned-victory that came with every cut. 

As for Neil, the last person who’d loved _him_ was his mother - and she’d sure as fuck bungled that now hadn’t she? Maybe she’d kept him alive, dragging him around from place to place for eight years, but what he’d heard of her was enough to know that she hadn’t exactly been mother of the fucking year either. Nathan might have carved his son up, but after waiting around for ten years to finally do something, Mary had tried to _erase_ him and she’d smacked him around whenever he’d started to bloom too much of a personality for her liking. 

Cass and Mary - if that was love he didn’t think he wanted it coming anywhere near him or his rabbit. 

No, he didn’t know what to define whatever it was between him and Neil but it was _something_ and for now it didn’t need a definition deeper than that. 

Andrew crossed the room to stand behind Neil, resting his hands on his shoulders. When Neil tilted his head back in silent question, Andrew kissed him - just lightly - on the forehead. Those blue-of-the-world eyes widened slightly and Andrew was treated to a shock of pick rising suddenly to the striker’s cheeks. He admired the image for a moment, then squeezed Neil’s shoulders and moved away to get his laptop. He had homework to do.


	3. Thursday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Andrew vs. Matthew Donovan Boyd. Also, Andrew and Neil have soft moments.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahh, thank you guys so much for reading and commenting!!! Every time someone leaves me lil hearts or kind words just absolutely makes me soar ^///^ I’m so glad that you’re enjoying this (incredibly self-indulgent) fic about our favorite disasterboys (in love). 
> 
> Chapter warnings - Panic attacks and I think that’s it.

Thursday morning began in the dark. Panic in the form of strangled breaths scraped against Andrew’s senses as he clawed his way sluggishly into consciousness. For him to so instantly identify the sound as panic, even before he knew where it was coming from, made him clumsily wonder if it was coming from himself at first. Then he started to wake a little more and registered that the tight gasps were coming from below him, each exhale shuddering against the bottom of his lofted bunk. 

Neil, it had to be Neil. 

Still weighed down with exhaustion but energized by his focus, Andrew slowly climbed down from the loft. He snagged his phone off the charger and used the screen to offer a small amount of light in the otherwise dark room as he crouched by the head of Neil’s bed. 

The striker had his eyes open but they were too wide. One hand was curled into a hooked, angry claw at the base of his throat and the other was gripping his arm so tightly he was going to give himself bruises. The way his nails dug mercilessly into his skin had Andrew’s jaw clenching, and he had to fight the impulse to drag his hands away from him, to stop Neil from hurting himself anymore. 

“Neil,” he murmured quietly instead, hoping to get his attention before he touched him. “Come on, you idiot.” Despite the insult there was no heat or complaint in his voice. He kept his tone firm but low and calm, knowing that any edge of high emotion might upset him even more - especially if he wasn’t aware enough of his surroundings to know that it was Andrew talking to him. When Neil didn’t indicate that he’d heard or even noticed him, Andrew reached out and gently brushed some of the messy auburn bangs away from his forehead. The mix of shadows and the phone’s inarticulate glow turned their color an eerie blood-red and Andrew tried not to notice the way the splay of hair against the pillow mimicked the fallout from a well-aimed bullet. He’d managed to avoid having that dream tonight and he didn’t appreciate the reminder of it in his waking state. 

Ignoring the unfortunate tableau, Andrew tried again to get Neil’s attention, leaning a little closer and softening his tone. “Neil. It’s Andrew. I’m right here. Come back to me.”

The strangled gasps stuttered and fragile blue eyes flicked toward him. The look in them was semi-glazed and distant, but there was a struggle for recognition there as his rabbit looked at him, as he searched his face for something familiar, something safe. 

Andrew angled the phone a bit so that Neil could see him better and he stroked a thumb over the other man’s forehead, following his hairline and then down over to his temple. He didn’t touch his scars, conscious that pressure on the wrong place in the wrong state of mind could reinforce whatever terror was trapping him now. 

“I am right here,” he said again in the same quiet tone. Relief blossomed in a quiet place that Andrew kept hidden in his chest when Neil gave a small, jerky nod. He tried to lean toward him and Andrew took that as a request for more contact so he traced his hand back up from his temple and sifted his fingers through those tousled, semi-tangled curls. 

They stayed that way until Andrew’s legs began to cramp and Neil’s breathing finally evened out, with Andrew gently stroking his hair with one hand and keeping his phone dimly lit with the other. Neil never looked away from his face, he barely blinked, his focus locked onto Andrew like he was the only thing he knew was real. Having been in the suffocating grip of his own nightmares often enough, Andrew figured that probably wasn’t all that far off. So he stayed, and he held his gaze or traced his own over Neil’s face as he gently stroked his hair until his frightened rabbit finally calmed. 

Only then did Andrew pull his hand free of Neil’s hair so he could brush his fingers against the hand Neil still held to his own throat. Neil let him gently pry it away to cradle in his own. He gave it a light squeeze, then brought it to his lips, a silent message that he could weather this, too - and that Andrew would be there with him through the cleanup. 

Neil managed a small smile and released a breath he’d been holding high in his chest before twisting his hand slightly to curl his fingers around Andrew’s and giving his hand a slight tug. He looked from Andrew to the wall behind him and scooted toward the edge of the bed - a request and an offer. Neil was asking him to lay with him, and offering him the wall because he knew that Andrew was uncomfortable with his back to an open room. 

Andrew thought about it a moment and Neil waited patiently, then he nodded and kissed his fingers again before carefully climbing over his rabbit and slotting into the narrow space between Neil and the wall, slipping under the blanket. Sleeping together wasn’t a new thing; they shared the bed in Andrew’s room in Columbia more often than they didn’t anymore. But this bed was significantly narrower, so it took some shifting and adjusting. Neil tried to give him his customary valley of space between them, but that put Neil so much on the edge that he wobbled precariously so Andrew tugged him back in with the grip he still held on his hand. 

There were another few moments of thoughtful adjustment as they figured out what to do with hands and knees and how best to share a single pillow without eating each other's noses. The pillow ended up on a slight angle, Neil giving Andrew the bulk of it as he claimed a corner for himself, scooting down a few inches so Andrew’s eyes were level with the messy curls that covered the striker’s forehead. He reached up on impulse to brush them away but they fell right back into place again so he let it be and looked back down at a now-yawning Neil. Neil was still holding onto one of his hands but the other was awkwardly curled and folded against his own chest in a way Andrew was sure would cramp, but he knew the idiot was doing it to avoid touching him unnecessarily. 

“Hold onto my hand with both of yours,” he murmured quietly. When Neil complied he gave his hand a small squeeze and lifted his other one, hovering it over his waist. Before he could ask the question, Neil gave him a small nod of consent and Andrew used that hand to gently tug him closer. There was still a small cushion of space between them, loosely filled out by the rumples in their clothes, but it felt comfortable. 

Neil gave a soft sigh and relaxed against his corner of the pillow. Andrew wasn’t sure he realized he was doing it, but he hugged the hand he was holding to his chest, head slightly bowed toward it. Andrew could feel the slightest brush of his lips over his knuckles, the ghost of his breath sifting between his fingers. In a few minutes, Andrew could feel his breathing even out and knew that Neil was drifting back to a light sleep. It was a good idea, and he was inclined to follow suit. His thumb gently stroked at Neil’s side through the fabric of his shirt and he brought his head close to Neil’s, letting the sound of his rabbit’s slow, deep breathing lull him back into a quiet slumber. 

*****

The shriek of Kevin’s alarm woke them both up a few hours later. Andrew protested its needy demand by tucking his chin and burying his face into the pillow - and Neil’s hair. Against him, Neil made a soft grunt of protest that mirrored Andrew’s sentiment and hunched himself around the hand he was still holding. 

Even though they’d both gone to sleep fairly quickly once Andrew had joined Neil in his bed, Andrew still felt like he’d woken up at three in the morning and by the half-sighed grumbling of complaint Neil was making against his knuckles he was sure the striker felt the same. He also happened to know that panic attacks like that one could more or less erase any rest you might have actually achieved before or after. If he hadn’t known better he might have considered trying to convince Neil to skip the workout this morning and just nap all morning (with him, obviously) but he knew better so cast the notion aside before it could even fully form.

Andrew was willing to stubbornly hold out until they were forced out of bed by Kevin’s whining, but Neil apparently had a far lower tolerance for the pointed wail of that clock and after less than two minutes he huffed angrily and pulled away. Andrew let him go as Neil rolled off the bed, and rather than follow him he instead grabbed the pillow and claimed it entirely for himself, curling around it and dragging the blankets over his head to turn himself into a blanket-mole in protest of the day beginning.

The sound cut off, followed by the familiar _“oof!”_ and _thwack_ of pillow-meeting-Kevin’s-face (repeatedly, Neil let him have it a few extra times apparently). Nicky let out a muffled promise about being _“up, I’m up, mm jus’ gonna give m’pillow ‘nother hug cuz it's cute”_ before there was the sound of the door opening and closing as Neil left the bedroom. 

Andrew held out for as long as possible before sighing and crawling out of his blanket burrow, blearily glaring around the room before slipping out of the bed. Nicky was in the middle of getting dressed and he froze, staring open-mouthed. Then, in a display utterly fitting of Nicky Hemmick, he dropped his pants so they bunched around his ankles and he pointed at him while looking utterly ridiculous in horny reindeer Christmas briefs. “You. Bed. Neil’s. What? You!”

It was far too early for these dramatics. Andrew ignored Nicky’s stammering and grabbed some clothes to go get dressed and ready in the bathroom so as to better avoid further interaction. He was still able to hear Nicky’s attempt at sentence structure as he left the room, if only because he didn’t bother to shut the door behind him. 

Thankfully, Nicky wisely refrained from further comment when Andrew joined the rest of them in the kitchen for a light breakfast and coffee. But there was a chipper gleam in his eye that was just far too pleased as he looked eagerly between him and Neil, especially as Neil passed him a mug of coffee already made up to his liking. If Neil noticed the extra scrutiny it didn’t seem to bother him, though Andrew thought it was more likely that the striker was still out of it. He was curled around a mug of strong tea and hadn’t touched his scrambled eggs - occasionally eying them distastefully over the rim of his mug as if they might be poisoned. 

Unsurprised but also unamused (because while he knew Neil had an aversion to the texture of scrambled eggs, especially after nightmares, he also wasn’t about to let the striker not eat at all), Andrew plucked a banana from the bowl on the counter and opened it. He broke off the top half and handed it to Neil, who reflexively took it without really registering what he was doing. It took a moment, the stupid rabbit staring at the banana like he didn’t know what to do with it, then he looked at Andrew, then at the banana. Andrew sipped his coffee and took a bite of the remaining banana half. Having no other option, Neil slowly ate the banana half between sips of tea. 

When Nicky made some sort of giddy sound that had absolutely _no_ place being uttered at any point in time, let alone this goddamn early in the morning, Andrew neatly removed his half of the banana from the peel and flung the peel at Nicky’s face, making the man squeal.

Kevin made no comment at all, proving that there were, in fact, times where he wasn’t the thickest person in the fucking room. 

Aaron met them downstairs and they all piled into the Maserati to go to the gym. It was once they were filing out of the locker room and onto the floor that Kevin turned to Neil with his usual haughty authority to proclaim, “You can work out today, but don’t push it.”

Neil just stared at him, his expression articulating _‘fuck you’_ quite nicely even without the middle finger he held up for emphasis. 

“We have a game tomorrow, Neil. If you strain yourself--” 

Neil cut him off with a snort and a wave of his hand, then promptly turned to catch up with Matt, who’d been waiting for him a few feet away. This might have been intended as a way to end the conversation, but Kevin followed after him. Nicky, who’d been chatting excitedly with Reynolds nearby, turned and looked curiously from Kevin to Andrew and back again. 

Andrew just shrugged and turned to follow Aaron toward the free weights so they could get their own workout started. If Kevin ended up irritating Neil into getting a punch in the face, Andrew sure as fuck wasn’t going to intervene. Though with Boyd there Andrew doubted that Neil would have to go that far. Matt was always looking for an excuse to shut Kevin down, no matter the consequences - Andrew was sure the backliner would be more than happy to shoo Kevin away. 

He was in the middle of stretching when Kevin sulked back toward them, but Andrew quickly lost interest in Day’s pouting, his attention catching on Boyd and Neil where they were standing over on the mats in the corner near the leg machines where they usually did their own stretching. Matt had just tried to place his hand on Neil’s shoulder and Neil had sidestepped to avoid the contact. The expression on Boyd’s face was hurt, and he was an expressive enough man that the sentiment was reflected throughout the rest of his body. His shoulders slumped and his hands hovered in the air between him and Neil, fingers slightly curled in a half-aborted grasp. 

Andrew didn’t give a shit about Matt acting like a kicked puppy. What he _did_ care about was the tight guilt on Neil’s own face before his rabbit locked it away behind a familiar blank mask. Any lingering fatigue from this morning was gone in a wave of rage. His hands clenched into fists and he almost hauled one at Aaron on reflex when his brother spoke from closer than he remembered him being. 

“What’s their problem? I thought Josten was basically Boyd’s adopted child.” Andrew shot his brother a glare but it wasn’t like he could argue. Instead he let out a slow breath and lifted a weight, satisfying himself with the fantasy of ramming it down Boyd’s throat. 

“Boyd’s pissy because Neil won’t cry on his shoulder and Neil’s falling for his guilt trip because he’s a sentimental idiot.”

Aaron snorted. “I’m surprised he doesn’t just tell him to fuck off. Even when he can’t talk, that’s never stopped him from dismissing anyone else. He’s pretty good at silently telling Kevin and Nicky to fuck off, anyway.”

Andrew paused then and studied his brother in a weighted silence, trying to decide how much Aaron had picked up on about his little rabbit and his hard days. He knew Neil had told at least part of it to Boyd and Dan, and Renee knew enough to know that he and Neil were learning sign language together in part to give him a non-verbal form of communication to lean on when he needed to - but he wasn’t sure how much everyone else had pieced together. There’d been a few significant enough instances that anyone who cared and paid attention to Neil had to have figured out _something_ , but they all sucked enough at properly responding to Neil’s silences that Andrew half thought they forgot about them until they cropped up again. 

As for Aaron, Neil had no reason to confide in him at all and until yesterday Andrew had directly _avoided_ talking to him about Neil. Similarly, whenever Neil had a hard day before, Aaron never commented. Andrew had always figured that he never cared enough to notice, but since Aaron had proved himself annoyingly observant lately he supposed that maybe he had noticed more than he’d been letting on and had just had the rare sense to leave it the fuck alone. 

_Even if he **can’t** talk,_ his brother had said. Not _won’t_ or _doesn’t_ or _doesn’t want to_ \- but _**can’t**_. It was getting really annoying having to give Aaron credit for shit.

“Like I said, sentimental idiot,” Andrew said in response, choosing not to address his brother’s observation - though he supposed his lack of protest could be considered confirmation. “He’s too soft on the Foxes and lets them get away with shit he shouldn’t. Especially Boyd and the captain.”

“That’s bullshit.”

“Oh look, something we agree on,” he drawled dryly. “We should tell Bee. She’ll be so proud.”

Aaron rolled his eyes but let the topic drop and they went into their workout. Weirdly enough, though the topic had dropped their conversation on a whole did not. Neither of them were exactly verbose, but they carried on a relatively steady conversation as they finished their stretching and moved into some warm-ups with their free weights and then over to work on their upper bodies. Even though Andrew found the very concept of Aaron wanting to talk to him insufferably annoying, it was surprisingly easy to contribute - which was even _more_ annoying. He almost shut down the whole conversation on principle, but decided that it wouldn’t be worth the drama of Aaron getting pissy. 

It was absolutely _not_ because he was even remotely _enjoying_ talking to his brother. 

They chatted idly throughout their usual Thursday circuit and by the time they headed up to the track that circled the second floor of the gym to join the rest of the team for cooldown laps, Andrew had decided that he was probably just saving the wealth of his irritation for Boyd or Kevin and that was why he hadn’t felt like hitting Aaron yet. 

This theory was supported by the strike of fanged ire that burned up his spine as they reached the top of the stairs and Andrew could hear Matt saying, in a small, wounded voice, “I just really wish you trusted us, you know?” As they reached the top step Andrew saw that Matt and Neil were standing just off to the side, in an alcove between the stairs and the track where other people seemed to be stashing their water bottles, towels, and the occasional sweatshirt. Matt’s expression was screwed up in a disgusting display of pleading, his eyes big and round, his shoulders hunched, his teeth sinking into his bottom lip as he searched Neil’s face. By the way Boyd was conducting himself you’d think that Neil just told him that he wasn’t going to take him to the prom if he looked fat in his dress.

Neil was back to looking guilty and Andrew could see the sharp lash of shame reflected in his eyes and staining the lines of his body through marked tension in each and every one of his muscles. He couldn’t meet Matt’s eyes, and in his attempt to avoid them his gaze landed on Andrew. 

Tuesday night slammed vividly into his memory: Neil, strung out on panic, viciously signing _’I’m nothing’_ over and over again as his body shook from exhaustion and his eyes choked on pain. 

Andrew lifted his hands. He didn’t sign _’Are you okay?’_ because he knew the answer - and people were always asking Neil that question, and were always unhappy with the answer no matter which one he gave them. Instead he asked, “Do you want me there?” 

Neil didn’t even move his hands, he just nodded. Andrew nodded in return and looked to Aaron, but his brother shook his head before he could say anything. 

“Go on. I’ll catch up to Nicky.” Andrew could be annoyed by the lack of judgement later. For now he just nodded silently and turned to head toward where Matt had followed Neil’s gaze and was now watching him approach. 

“We got a problem, Boyd?” Andrew breezed without inflection as he drew close. 

Neil frowned at him in disapproval and shook his head, lifting his hands to sign, “Don’t. He’s just worried.”

Andrew raised a brow, because Neil was the one to admit he’d wanted Andrew to come over and if he thought he’d just stand by when Matt was ignoring Neil’s boundaries they clearly needed to have a conversation about how this relationship worked. If Neil got to stand up for him in the face of the Foxes’ gross misinterpretations of him, even though Andrew didn’t give a shit about them - then Andrew got to do the same when they did the same and worse to Neil, especially because Neil _did_ give a shit. 

That was an argument for later, though. For now, Andrew ignored his fretting little rabbit and looked to Boyd. The kicked puppy look had been replaced with wary confusion. Confused because of the sign language probably, and wary because Matt was an idiot about many things but he at least knew enough to be aware of Andrew’s threat level. 

“Well?” he asked, tone bored. 

“Should I be asking you that? You’re the one that came over here.” He looked between him and Neil, his gaze settling on the striker. “Neil? What’s going on.”

Neil sighed and shook his head. He pointed at himself, then at Andrew, then at the track. Then he gave Boyd a wave and started to walk away. 

“No, Neil, wait.” Matt made another one of those annoying pained looks and reached out as if to grab Neil’s arm, but Andrew whacked it smoothly out of the way before he got the chance. “The fuck, man!” he hissed as he snatched his hand back. “The hell is your problem, Minyard? I’m just trying to help.”

“If Neil wanted your help, he would ask for it,” Andrew said with a small shrug. 

Matt looked to Neil, who had stopped walking and turned back to face them when Andrew had halted Boyd’s attempt to grab him. His expression was tight with pleading frustration. “Neil, look. I’m sorry. I’m just worried about you. We all are. Between you shutting us all out like this and whatever that was on Tuesday, we’re all just… we’re worried. We care about you. We want to _help_ if you’ll just _let_ us.”

Andrew watched Neil carefully, saw the way his jaw tightened and his nails bit lightly into the base of his throat. He saw him try to force his voice to work, he saw it fail. He saw the frustration in his rabbit’s eyes, and the pain, and the fear, and the hate. He wondered if Matt really couldn’t fucking see it or if he was just too stupid to understand it. Finally, Neil looked to Andrew. 

“Tell him… tell him I _am_ getting help. Tell him I talk to Bee,” he signed deliberately. Andrew studied Neil for a long moment, but he didn’t question his decision, he just turned to Matt to relay the message. 

Matt looked shocked. Andrew could understand why. He hadn’t been the only one who had suggested to Neil, especially after the shit that went down last March, that he should talk to someone. He looked from Andrew to Neil several times before settling on Neil. “Really?”

Neil nodded. 

“So this… the signing and stuff? I mean, we noticed it a little bit, but I don’t think anyone realized until the other night that it was, y’know, a _thing_.”

When Neil looked to Andrew and nodded, Andrew sighed - already annoyed with this conversation but willing to put up with it if it got Boyd to back the fuck off. “Neil and I decided to learn a few months ago,” he said aloud. “It helps.”

Boyd nodded dumbly and looked between them again. Rabbit that he was, Neil took the opportunity to escape the conversation. He gestured to the track again, then the clock on the wall before giving a small wave and taking off before Matt could attempt to protest again. Typical - not that Andrew blamed him. He wanted to get the fuck out of this conversation too. 

Oh, that’s right, Andrew didn’t give a flying fuck about Boyd. He could leave whenever the fuck he wanted to. Cheered by this, he turned to start his own laps - only to be knocked back into annoyance when he realized that Matthew Donovan Boyd had fallen into step beside him. Andrew leveled a glare up at the backliner, and was just about to threaten his hamstrings when the other man spoke. 

“How did you do it?”

“Do what?” Andrew sighed, letting it show how absolutely _done_ with this conversation he was and he didn’t even know what the fuck they were talking about. 

“How did you get him to talk to Betsy? He wouldn’t have decided on his own, and he doesn’t trust the rest of us to listen when we say something like that, doesn’t let us help him when he really needs it. Even getting him to back down on the court when he’s injured is still a battle - but you got him to leave on Tuesday. He reaches out to you, too, doesn’t he? Not that I’m not glad he at least goes to _someone_ ” -Andrew rolled his eyes at the implied slight- “but how the fuck did you do it?”

There wasn’t even any accusation in his tone. Boyd was just confused and utterly, completely, lost. If Andrew was capable of pity he would have felt sorry for the man. As it were, he just scoffed. 

“Figure it out yourself, Boyd. I’m not into charity.” Then, rather than picking up speed to get away from the other man he just stopped completely and stepped off the track, turning to head back to the alcove by the stairs. He waited there, leaning against the rail, and watched as Matt eventually caught up to Neil and fell into step beside him - or rather, as Neil _allowed_ him to catch up and run with him again. He watched as Matt apologized and as Neil forgave him instead of punching him in the face or tripping him and running on without him. Stupid, sentimental idiot.

*****

Andrew really thought that would be the end of Boyd’s prodding even if he had little faith in it being the end of his stupidity. He was wrong. 

Since he and Neil had forgone much of their usual practice time yesterday in favor of napping and being blissfully useless, they had decided to catch up a little bit today during the gap of time they both had around lunch. He did not expect to see Matthew Boyd waiting for him outside the building of his last class of the morning - and was annoyed enough by his appearance that he barely looked at him as he breezed past, determined to ignore him completely. 

“Andrew! Hey, wait up!”

Ugh.

Andrew did not wait. 

Unfortunately, Matthew Boyd was exy’s very own Jolly Green Giant and it was impossible to outpace him unless he actually wanted to _run_ and he _refused_. This meant that Boyd was able to easily catch up to him and keep pace, walking with him back toward Fox Tower. 

“Andrew, c’mon, will you at least hear me out? _Please?_ ”

Andrew stopped dead and glared at him. When Matt stumbled to a stop and faced him, hope lighting up his stupid puppy-dog eyes, Andrew took a quick step into his space and pressed the tip of a blade into the space between them. “I really hate that fucking word, Boyd - I would have thought you knew that.”

“Fuck! Shit! Andrew, look. I’m sorry. Just. Listen, okay? P- Just, listen, it’s about Neil. It’s _for_ Neil, okay?” He managed to stop himself from saying it a second time, if only barely - and damn that stupid fox for pushing on his weak spot. And damn Neil for being that weak spot. And damn both of them again, because not anyone could use that against him either - but Matthew Boyd was Neil’s best friend and his sentimental little idiot was just going to keep letting Matt bumble around like an ox in a damn emotional china shop. 

Andrew hadn’t wanted to step in, because Neil’s relationships with other people weren’t any of his fucking business and he _very much_ preferred it that way. He’d learned his lesson with Aaron, thank you very fucking much - not that he was about to admit that to anyone. Neil hadn’t asked for his input and it felt wrong to meddle on so many levels. Even with Boyd being the one to come to him. 

Still. 

Rolling his eyes, Andrew tucked his knife away and glared up at him. “What?”

Matt’s stupid face looked even stupider when slathered with shock like he hadn’t expected that to work. 

“You are wasting my time, Boyd. Get on with it or get out of my fucking way.”

“Oh. Uh. Right.” He flashed a small grin. “Right. Look, I just want to know how you did it?”

Andrew stared at him blankly, not bothering to waste words on that bit of vague stupidity. 

“How you got him to go to therapy,” Boyd clarified. “How you get him to always... _go_ to you. How you get him to _listen_ to you and be honest with you like that. I was there Tuesday night, and that’s not the first time that you got to him when no one else could. I don’t think he _wants_ to lie to us or hide shit from the rest of us, you know? He wants to trust us, I know he does. How the hell do we help him do that?” There was desperation in his eyes and his hands were constantly moving and fidgeting, running through his hair and wringing his fingers and fussing with his backpack. “He’s my best friend, Andrew. I’m worried about him. I want to help and it kills me every time he holds back from me.”

Andrew considered this for a moment. He thought about not answering at all, but the way that the other Foxes willfully misunderstood Neil at every fucking turn pissed him off too much to let this opportunity go.

"I asked," he finally said, and though his face showed nothing - inside he was reveling at the utterly dumbstruck expression on Boyd's stupid fucking face.

Maybe the whole of it wasn’t as simple as that, but it was true enough. Because he did. He just asked the right fucking questions at the right time. He also _listened_ to the answers he was being given whether Neil was giving them verbally or not. Then he respected the fucking answers he got no matter what they were. Every interaction and nonaction he had with Neil was a quiet question, was him noticing and paying attention and then respecting whatever he found or was said to him. And Neil? Neil gave him the same fucking thing in return.

These Foxes? For as much as they said they loved and cared about Neil, they didn't know shit about what it meant to respect him and Andrew was fucking _done_.

"You... asked." Boyd said it with such flabbergasted astonishment that Andrew snorted.

"What? That such a hard fucking concept to wrap your tiny brain around?"

The backliner shook his head, like he was trying to smack his two remaining brain cells together to spark some sort of coherent thought. "No I... It's just... Neil said the same thing. Like, ages ago. More than once. Whenever we asked him how he got you to go along with shit, that's what he'd say. Casual as fuck, just 'I asked', like it was that simple."

Andrew snorted, because it was that fucking simple. It also wasn't, but the deeper intricacies of his and Neil's relationship weren't privy to a dipshit like Matthew Donovan Boyd.

"Yeah, so?"

"So it can't be that simple." Andrew started to roll his eyes but Boyd held up a hand. "No, listen. It can't be. Because we all ask Neil shit all the time and don't get half the results you do. We ask if he's okay. We ask what we can do to help him. We ask him to lean on us. We ask him to let us be there for him. We're _always_ asking him, and we don't get half the results you do. How the fuck did you get him to trust you like this?"

Andrew wanted to shove his knife down Matthew Boyd's ignorant fucking throat.

He wasn't even offended at the implication that the real shocker was that _he_ of all people had somehow managed to earn Neil's trust, _him_ \- the Palmetto Foxes’ own resident ‘monster’. He knew how the others saw him, had actively encouraged it as a matter of fact, and had never given a shit if the others didn't like him. He still didn't. The only annoying part of it was when it started to affect Neil because of the Foxes' doubts about their relationship - even if they didn't know the full scope of it. No, what was agitating the demon under his skin was how fucking _selfish_ Boyd was being and how he was attempting to paint it as concern for Neil. Of how he was using his _love_ and _care_ for Neil as a fucking excuse.

He wanted to fucking rip into him then and there. Neil would be extremely displeased with him if he used his knives, but he weirdly had a stronger impulse to use words anyway. It would have a better effect, he thought, than physical violence - to illustrate _exactly_ what Boyd and the other Foxes got so incredibly wrong all the fucking time. 

He wanted to watch the realization crawl into Boyd's eyes of how much of an ingnortant fucking dick he's been, how all the Foxes have been. 

He wanted to tear him down and put him in his fucking place for all the times that he willfully ignored what was _right in-fucking-front of him_ since _day-fucking-one_. 

He wanted to _make_ him realize that every single time he or the others so desperately clung to the obvious falsehood that Neil was 'normal' they were only reinforcing the stupid little rabbit's misconception that he _had_ to be fine. Then, when Neil tried so desperately to be that for them and failed? Then they punished him with their "love" in the form of a disappointment that only made Neil feel more damaged and alone and estranged from the rest of them. Because they wanted Neil to be fine and normal more than they wanted to actually see Neil for who and what he was, and that was fucking disgusting.

Of course Neil trusted Andrew more than these stupid fucks. Andrew was apparently the only person willing to interact with the real him without judgement, to meet him wherever he was at without expecting him to be anything other than whatever it was he happened to be in that moment on that day.

Andrew's hands were in tight fists and the look he was giving the much larger man must have shown at least a fraction of what he was feeling because the other man took a wary step back, his eyes flicking to his hands - likely on the lookout for knives. Knives that Andrew very maturely didn't draw (Bee would be so proud). Instead he extended his middle finger and jabbed it in Matt's direction as he said, "It's none of your fucking business."

"He's my friend, Andrew! I just want to be there for him! Don't you get that?" Boyd pleaded, equal parts pissed off and desperate, as Andrew turned to abandon this sham of a conversation.

Straw. Camel. Back.

"No," he hissed out in return, whirling back to face him and taking two angry steps toward him, making the large backliner stumble backwards quickly. "No I fucking don't, because if you can't even wrap that puny little brain of yours around _who_ Neil Abram Josten really fucking _is_ then you don't _deserve_ to be there when he's hurting. And if you're still phrasing this in what _you_ want and how _you're_ feeling and what it's doing to _you_ to be fucking left out of _Neil's_ business then you've got no fucking right getting anywhere near his weak spots and you know what - fuck you for assuming that just because you care about Neil that you get the privilege of being a part of _his_ healing process. Newsflash, Boyd, _it isn't fucking up to you_."

By the time Andrew finished his impromptu rant, Matt was against the wall of some building they’d been passing when they’d stopped walking and Andrew was glowering up at him, stabbing a finger into the bony center of his chest for emphasis on the last word. The gobsmacked look on Boyd's face was only mildly satisfying. Mostly, the fact that he still had a face at all was just irritating all over again, and irritation when he was already this pissed off only served to fuel his anger and make those flames rage higher and higher.

He made himself pull back before he did something Neil would regret.

“Fuck you. Fuck all of you.” He was fucking done with this conversation, if it could even be called that, and he wasn’t going to waste any more time on it when he had a study session with a particular rabbit to get to. 

Andrew didn’t spare Matthew Boyd another glance and instead turned abruptly and started walking again. 

“Andrew?”

The only reason he paused - the _only_ reason - was because he knew, no matter what he said, no matter how he felt about it, Neil was going to continue to subject himself to these morons. So he paused, but he didn’t look back. 

At least, not until Matt said, “Thank you.” It was surprising enough that Andrew looked over his shoulder at the backliner, who’d pushed away from the wall and taken a few steps closer - though wisely stopped more than an arm's length away from Andrew. 

“I deserved that,” he continued. “All of it. I… I still don’t think I understand completely but… Neil is my friend and I’m going to try to do better.” Andrew wasn’t feeling particularly generous at the moment, but he had to admit - Boyd looked serious. He looked… determined. Andrew didn’t know if he could believe it or not, but it was better than fucking nothing. 

“Don’t try,” he said, tone hard. He didn’t have the patience for boredom right now. 

Boyd frowned, then seemed to understand that instead of saying ‘don’t bother’ Andrew meant ‘don’t fail’. The frown turned into a savage grin that was familiar from the exy court. “Fine, but then you’ve got to do something for me.”

Andrew rolled his eyes and opened his mouth to tell him to fuck off again, but Boyd kept talking before he could.

“Kick my ass whenever I start fucking up. I’m serious. If Neil isn’t going to do it, then I guess you might as well.” He was still grinning while he said it, like he thought it was going to be some kind of great challenge instead of potentially excruciatingly painful if he failed. Then again, this is a man who had _voluntarily_ devoted a hefty portion of his life to exy of all things, so he was clearly lacking sanity. 

Andrew studied him, then snorted and shrugged. “Fine.”

If anything, the idiot’s grin broadened. Andrew rolled his eyes and was beginning to turn away again when Matt’s expression shifted to something suspiciously thoughtful. 

“You really do care about him, don’t you?”

Yeah, no. Andrew didn’t dignify that with a response. Instead, he flipped him off and made his escape - ignoring the spluttered calls from the dipshit behind him. 

*****

Neil was already there when he arrived up at the dorm, sitting on the floor in front of the couch with Andrew’s laptop open on the low coffee table. He didn’t look over when Andrew came in and just continued to slowly sign through this week’s conversational ASL goals. 

They were both picking up on vocabulary fairly quickly, and knew each other well enough that they could generally figure out what the other was saying just by throwing words back and forth at each other - but to anyone actually fluent in the language it probably looked like they were having some kind of a tandem stroke half the time. Andrew had complained at first that he was fine with that (it wasn’t like he intended to speak to anyone other than Neil in ASL) - but he’d reluctantly agreed that they might as well do the thing right. 

Neil was arguably much better than Andrew was when it came to grammar and context. He wished he could blame it on the little idiot already being a polyglot - but unfortunately it was probably more just because Neil didn’t have half the trouble that Andrew did incorporating facial expression and body language and using it simultaneously with the hand signs. Andrew tried, but even he had to admit that he only had so much to give and he’d probably be speaking ASL with an accent forever. Ah well. 

Andrew watched Neil practice for a moment longer before detouring to the kitchen. He got what he needed to make up a cup of hot chocolate for himself and dug into the back of the cabinet for the small box of fancy-as-fuck tea he’d picked up last week at the mall. It was a cinnamon orange blossom black tea blend and had looked kinda like an upgraded version of one of Neil’s favorites from the supermarket tea aisle so he’d grabbed it. Then he’d hidden it instead of giving it to the little idiot because the brat had called him _cute_ for doing something that was definitely _not cute_. His own laziness was the only thing that had saved the idiot rabbit from the business end of his knife.

Now was as good a time as any to make him a cup and see if he could tell the difference between it and his usual afternoon blend. 

While Neil’s tea steeped, Andrew made up his hot chocolate (with extra whipped cream, mini chocolate marshmallows, _and_ a dusting of chocolate powder), and when it was all done he carried both mugs into the living room. Neil leaned forward when he sensed his presence, still focused on smoothly copying the motions from the video playing on the screen, allowing Andrew to sit on the couch directly behind him. He leaned back once he felt Andrew settle, and only looked up when Andrew reached around him to offer the mug of gently steaming tea. 

Neil accepted it and inhaled its scent, humming in appreciation. Then he took a careful sip and another sound replaced the first, a mix of surprise and smooth delight. Another sip, and there was a soft moan of appreciation this time that had Andrew deciding they would never buy that supermarket crap again. 

Andrew hid his own rather smug smirk behind his cup as he sipped at his hot chocolate, slurping up some of the decked out whipped cream first and making a small well through which he could sip the liquid deliciousness. When Neil tilted his head back to look up at him he lowered the mug to meet his gaze, opening his mouth to answer the unspoken question he knew Neil would have about where the new tea had come from, but he fore he got the chance Neil’s hand reached back and up, hovering near his mouth before his thumb ever so lightly brushed over his upper lip. As he pulled his hand away, Andrew noticed there was a swirl of whipped cream on his thumb and a delighted little smile on Neil’s lips - an expression that reached his eyes in a way that surpassed any sweetness he had ever tasted in any number of the desserts he’d sampled. 

Neil hummed and brought his thumb to his lips, licking off the whipped cream. Andrew didn’t know why, because Neil didn’t really like sweets, but he definitely wasn’t fucking complaining. His gaze caught on the slow flick of Neil’s tongue against his pad of his thumb, easily imagining his tongue and that mouth and that sweet curl of delight that brought the two together wrapped around something else. 

_Fuck._

Andrew was never going to get used to the intense effect Neil had on him. It just wasn’t going to happen. You can’t _get used_ to Neil’s undivided attention in the same way you can’t just _get used_ to a nuclear fucking bomb. There was nothing that could parallel the feeling that gripped him by the fucking spine whenever he looked into those shock-of-ice eyes and saw the force of his own desire mirrored right back at him. It was something more than _want_ when he looked at Neil, it was fucking _need_. 

He was already leaning forward, intending to set his mug down on the table and have Neil do the same so he could drag the other man up into his lap and see just how _needy_ he could make him when the door swung open explosively enough that they both jumped. Neil hissed in pain as hot tea splashed over the rim of his cup and onto his hand and Andrew was now getting them both to set down their cups so that he could gather up Neil’s burned hand in his and inspect the damage. Since it was bright red he nudged Neil into standing and then stood up with him, still holding onto his hand. 

“Ooh! Good! You’re both here!” Nicky squealed unnecessarily, and Andrew shot him a fierce glower as he led Neil by the wrist into the kitchen. “Oh no! What happened? Neil are you okay?” Nicky followed them, watching with a concerned pout as Andrew turned the faucet to cold and held Neil’s hand under it. 

“Someone does not know how to open the door like a normal person,” Andrew informed Nicky with a pointed glare. “You made Neil spill his tea.” He also utterly cockblocked him, the chirpy little asshole.

“Oops, sorry Neil. But _listen!!_ You won’t _believe_ what I just saw,” he barrelled on with absolutely no fucking shame. 

Neil, because he was just as much of an asshole, shot him a smirk then turned his attention to Nicky and smiled in encouragement - the traitor. Andrew just rolled his eyes and blocked out as much of Nicky’s incessant chatter as he could, instead turning his attention to where he was still holding Neil’s hand under the cool running water. Once he was satisfied that the burn had been cooled enough, he turned off the water and inspected the still slightly-reddened skin. Determining that Neil would be just fine, he grabbed a handful of paper towels and shoved them into his wet hand before releasing it to return to the living room. He had absolutely no interest in whatever Nicky was blathering on about. 

As he passed, Neil caught the edge of his shirt with the fingertips of his free hand and gave it a small tug. Nicky was moving around the kitchen, waving his arms dramatically in the retelling of whatever ridiculous and utterly inconsequential event he’d witnessed, and didn’t spare either of them any extra attention as Andrew paused long enough to look back at the striker.

His heart did a traitorous little skip and sigh at the look on Neil’s face. There was that softness to his mouth, slightly curved with his bottom lip just barely tucked in-between his teeth in a way that made Andrew’s chest feel too warm and his arms feel too empty. His eyes were warm in a way that reminded him how blue a summer sky could be when you had everything in front of you and the only thing behind you was an open road of no regrets. The way Neil’s head tilted just enough to the side so that his bangs swept down to kiss his lashes and the elegant line of his throat was exposed because Neil was never one to duck his chin, he always lifted it in challenge. The expression was so quiet, so subtle, so private - and Andrew was _captured_.

Even when Neil released him, his smile deepening _just_ enough to flash the divot of that secret dimple they both pretended wasn’t actually there, and turned back to listening to Nicky, Andrew stayed frozen for an extra moment. He told himself it was because he was ruminating on how much he hated his stupid little rabbit and his stupid smiles, or because he was reflecting on Neil’s need for a haircut. He ghosted right over the way he had to take a moment to remember how to breathe, and he scowled with extra emphasis as he turned to head into the living room. 

By the time Nicky had released Neil from whatever idiotic flippancy he’d brought in with him, Andrew had mostly finished his hot chocolate and Neil’s tea had cooled to something still drinkable but no longer scalding. Neil joined him on the couch this time and hummed around a sip of tea.

Nicky was still in the kitchen, frying up some lunch that Neil had better had the good sense to make sure included enough for them as well. Conscious of this, Andrew finished off his hot chocolate before lifting his hands to sign, “I talked to Boyd after class.”

Neil blinked in surprise, using one to brush down and away from his forehead, his expression tightening in confusion as he signed, “Why?”

“He talked to me, first,” Andrew clarified. 

Apparently, this only made Neil more confused, which he illustrated by asking “Why” again, but slower and more enunciated, using a slightly different version of the sign so he could bounce his fingers to show how unamused he was at the way Andrew was dragging this out.

Andrew rolled his eyes. “He’s stupid.” 

Neil didn’t need to use his hands to tell him to get on with it, the huff of his sigh was telling enough and Andrew realized that he was procrastinating. This was annoying, and Andrew didn’t take the time to analyze _why_ he might be procrastinating. Instead, he told himself that he _didn’t fucking care_ and just got on with it. 

“He wanted to know why you trust me,” he admitted with a sigh, then held up both hands to stop Neil’s protective outrage before it could begin. “Wait. I yelled at him already.”

Neil blinked in surprise, then narrowed his eyes suspiciously. “Knives?”

“No, I did not stab him.” This didn’t exactly mollify Neil, because his attentive little rabbit caught that just because he didn’t _stab_ didn’t mean he didn’t _draw_ his knives - but technically, Andrew had pulled a knife on Boyd when he’d said a word he shouldn’t, not for being a pushy idiot so he thought he deserved a bit more credit. Still, he didn’t go into it, instead pushing ahead. “We have an a-g-r-e-e-m-e-n-t now. I am telling you because I don’t want you getting… p-i-s-s-y” -Neil rolled his eyes at this point- “if I need to act on it.”

When Neil narrowed his eyes at this, Andrew met his gaze evenly, wondering if his protective little rabbit was going to push. One thing that Andrew appreciated about Neil was that he typically let Andrew handle things his way without pushing or judgement. Neil understood that he had his rules, his lines, and when they were crossed he would handle it accordingly. What Neil sometimes struggled to wrap is idiotic little rabbit brain around, however, is that _Neil_ was now one of those lines and had rules ascribed to him.

“Is this about me?” Neil asked slowly, cradling his tea between his thighs so he could use both hands. 

“Does it matter?” Andrew signed back with a raised brow, challenging him. Now was as good a time as any to make sure his rabbit understood a few things.

Neil frowned, struggling with that apparently. He lifted his hands and let them fall a few times as he thought about what he wanted to say. “You don’t have to… p-r-o-t-e-c-t me anymore. We stopped that a long time ago.”

Andrew made his next words slow and deliberate. He spoke and signed them at the same time, regardless of Nicky potentially being within earshot. “We are not nothing.” When Neil’s eyes widened at the blunt declaration but made no motion to interrupt, Andrew continued, still speaking and signing slowly. “We are together. You stand by me. I stand by you. That is how this works, Neil.” He said his name out loud, but when he signed he just used the two-handed sign for ‘rabbit’. He saw the way that Neil’s eyes caught on that, saw them brighten with curiosity or maybe amusement, but Neil didn’t address it just yet. 

“What does that have to do with Matt?” he asked instead, spelling out Matt’s name. 

“Are you really that stupid you need to ask me that after this morning?” Andrew asked with a raised brow, sticking to English and letting his own hands fall comfortably, one into his lap and the other along the back of the couch. 

Neil scowled at him but he didn’t claim not to see the connection. Instead, he protested with, “It isn’t his fault.”

“Agree to disagree. Point is, your boy came to _me_ , and as it aligned with my own motivations - I agreed to step in if I saw he was fucking up.”

Andrew had to give Neil a little bit of credit at this point, because while he could see that his rabbit was quietly fuming - he didn’t go for the jugular right away, and even in ASL he definitely had a wide enough vocabulary to jump down his throat. He wasn’t sure what part of it all had Neil the most pissed off, either. It could have just as easily been because of Andrew’s interference as much as it was because of the necessity of it. Honestly, it was probably a bit of both. But Neil didn’t lash out. Instead, Andrew got to watch as Neil mulled over this information, quietly stewed, and then seemed to accept it. 

“I don’t like this,” Neil finally said, still glaring, but his expression resigned as his hands flicked the words out with a bite of attitude.

“Noted, but irrelevant. This is between me and Boyd.” 

Neil studied him, but eventually sighed and nodded. 

Pleased (and maybe a bit smug), Andrew expected that to be the end of this and reached for his laptop so that they could get on with their practice - though he supposed they’d done quite a bit with their conversation already. As he did so, he noticed that Neil was still watching him - his expression having shifted from a mix of resigned and annoyed to something more considering. Once he had the laptop awake and on the right page he looked over at the striker and raised a brow in question.

“We are together,” he echoed back to him from before, his hands moving slowly and his lips curling in a small smile.

Andrew was unamused. “If this is news to you, I have serious questions about your intellect,” he said, still speaking in English simply for the ease of conveying just the right level of dry skepticism.

Neil just grinned. “Does this make us b-o-y-f-r-i-e-n-d-s?” First he spelled, then made the sign - which was really just a combination of the signs for ‘boy’ and ‘friend’.

Andrew wrinkled his nose and scoffed. “That’s a really stupid word,” he complained. He didn’t protest when his brother or other people used it (if they dared) because it was close enough - but it felt too… small for what he and Neil were to each other. It didn’t really match the tone of their _something_ so he’d never thought to use it himself.

“Hm…” Neil hummed aloud, his expression thoughtful for a moment. Then he spelled out, “P-a-r-t-n-e-r-s?” He hesitantly held up the middle and pointer fingers of both hands and tapped them together, like he wasn’t sure it was the correct sign - then confirmed his uncertainty by signing, “I need to look that up again.”

Andrew wasn’t sure of the sign either, but he thought about the word for a moment before shrugging. “Partners works.”

A sly sort of grin curled over the edge of Neil’s lips in a way that made Andrew think it should taste like the finest tiramisu. “Or maybe I can just call you ‘my Andrew’, since you already said I was ‘your Neil’.” There was a teasing quirk to that espresso-smirk mouth of his, but his blue eyes burned like the center of a flame and Andrew found that his own mouth was suddenly very, very dry. His ears felt warm and his throat was a bit tight and he wasn’t sure he’d ever be able to get the image out of his head of Neil looking at him like _that_ while his hands claimed him one letter at a time.

_My Andrew._

“I hate you,” he forced out, but even he could hear how little actual _hate_ was in his tone. To be fair, there wasn’t much room for hate when every nerve in his body was lighting up with something that burned so, so much hotter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Chapter: Andrew talks to Kevin O.O


	4. Friday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Andrew and Neil have some softer moments. Andrew and Kevin have a chat. The Foxes narrowly avoid a scandal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi friends! Wow, this was a fun chapter to write. Talk about self-discovery. Apparently I’m incapable of not being a ridiculous sap. I hope you can forgive me XD Thank you thank you thank you THANK YOU as always for everyone who leaves comments and kudos and just appreciation and luff <3
> 
> I am still learning how to use it properly BUT - I do have a Tumblr: [@kiirynilcc](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/kiirynilcc) so you can totally come be my friend over there. 
> 
> Chapter warnings - Gratuitous softness? Neil being sassy? Kevin having **issues**? j/k there’s no big warnings for this chapter, I just like to drag on myself because its funny.

Andrew relished his Fridays. On Friday, Andrew didn’t have to wake up at the asscrack of fucking dawn. On Friday, he was able to stay in bed until _eight_ and wake up slowly, at his own pace. Then, even with him sleeping in, he still had plenty of time for a leisurely breakfast before his ten o’clock class. There were a lot of unpleasant things about Fridays, too - like having to wear his fucking jersey to class and put up with idiots across campus thinking it gave them blanket permission to _talk_ to him, not to mention all that exy crap in the evening. 

Still, after stickball was done he was able to get behind the wheel of his Maserati and drive away from Palmetto like he never had to go back - and this weekend was going to be his and Neil’s second solo trip to the house in Columbia. After this week, he knew that both he and Neil were craving the escape. Even if all they did was sleep until Sunday afternoon it would be fucking worth it. 

By some miracle, when Andrew woke on Friday morning it was… quiet. Even with none of them needing to be up as early as they did the rest of the week, Kevin often forgot to switch off his alarm or otherwise decided to leave it on - telling himself that he’d “get in some extra practice anyway” or join Neil on his morning run (he never did). Andrew was usually able to roll over and go back to sleep once the disruption was dealt with, but it was still annoying as fuck and it was refreshing to wake up naturally just before eight after having an uninterrupted night’s sleep. 

What was even better was the light sound of sizzling coming from the kitchen and the unmistakable smell of bacon that was just starting to penetrate the bedroom. 

Grumbling wordlessly to himself, Andrew dragged himself down from his bed and glanced around the room. Nicky and Kevin were predictably still sleeping, which left only one option for whoever was in the kitchen cooking breakfast even before his gaze landed on Neil’s empty bed. This was satisfactory. While Nicky was arguably the better cook, he was always so damn chatty. Kevin wasn’t allowed anywhere near any of the cooking implements or the arrangement of any of their shared meals. He had really fucking unacceptable ideas about what constituted as a ‘nutritious breakfast for athletes’.

Once he’d pulled on his sweatshirt and rubbed the sleep out of his eyes, Andrew slipped silently from the bedroom, closing the door carefully behind him. He had no desire to wake the other two early, not when he was currently lined up to get first dibs on the bacon. 

Andrew forgot about bacon as he approached the kitchen, his step slowing to a halt just as he reached the edge of the carpeting where it changed to plain white tile. It shouldn’t have been possible, the banishment of the very God of Breakfast from his thoughts - not when he was even closer to the source and could _hear_ the music of it’s hush and sizzle, the scent directly seducing rumbles from his stomach. And yet, here he was, standing three feet away from applewood smoked perfection, and his mind was _blank_ , struck completely dumb by the sight in front of him.

Neil was humming along to some song that was quietly playing from his phone, moving slightly to the sway of the music in a half-distracted and not fully committed way that suggested he didn’t even know that he was doing it. MINYARD 03 was in large white letters across the back of the sweatshirt he was wearing and beneath it he was wearing these shorts… Honestly, Andrew had no idea what the shorts looked like other than the fact that they were so short he had a completely unobstructed view of the whole of Neil’s legs, from the deceptively slender ankles all the way up strong calves and powerful, achingly perfect thighs. He took his time admiring his way all the way up to his cheerful rabbit’s ass before letting his gaze drop all the way down to do it again, just to make sure he hadn’t missed anything. 

This time he allowed his gaze to rise all the way, and didn’t dismiss the smug approval that flared when he saw his name on Neil’s back again. Even when he reached the end of his visual journey and found Neil watching him curiously over his shoulder, he remained quite pleased with himself. It must have shown, because Neil’s mouth quirked up on the side and his head tilted. Andrew lifted his chin in acknowledgement and then waited as Neil looked his fill as well. Neither of them had any reason to hide how much they appreciated each others’ forms - and why the fuck would they? Neil was the one fucking prancing around with his legs on display when he very well _knew_ Andrew had a particular thing for them and Andrew was well aware of the way Neil liked to watch him bench on gym days. 

“I kinda like you in my sweatshirt, not gonna lie.” Neil was smirking, but there was a warmth to the expression that was audible in his voice - and _fuck_ was it good to hear his voice. Andrew wasn’t bothered by Neil’s silences the same way the upperclassmen were, and the two of them worked around them pretty neatly by this point - but when Neil was speaking like this, easy and casual and with no tension attempting to lock down his voice, it meant he was well and truly comfortable. It meant he felt _safe_ , and Andrew… Andrew didn’t really have words for the way that made him feel. None of the standar emotions seemed fitting. Pleased, satisfied, _proud_. Parts of all those things were there, but it still wasn’t quite right. 

When Neil was able to talk to him like this, it was like his whole world was just… _right_ , if only for a brief moment in time. 

If Andrew were the kind of man to smile, he would have done it at that moment. Instead, he raised a brow and looked down at the sweatshirt he was wearing as Neil reached out and plucked gently at the fabric. There on his chest was a large white number ten, a mirror of the back, which would also have JOSTEN broadcasted above it. Andrew hadn’t even noticed when he’d pulled it on. His and Neil’s sweatshirts were the same size - because Neil preferred to wear his sweatshirts a size too big and Andrew was notably broader than the wirey striker. 

Andrew gave a small shrug. “Only thing different about them is the name,” he said - as if seeing Neil with MINYARD across his shoulders did absolutely nothing to him, as if he had no idea why Neil would ever choose to wear Andrew’s sweatshirt on purpose when his own was right there. 

The brat hummed like he knew something and turned back to where he’d been making breakfast, giving Andrew another view of just that. Andrew studied him for a moment, then allowed himself to give into impulse. He stepped up behind Neil and rested his hands lightly on the other man’s hips. When Neil sighed and leaned slightly back toward him, Andrew closed the distance and wrapped his arms more securely around his waist. His lips found Neil’s neck and he pressed a small kiss over his pulse before allowing himself to rest his forehead on his shoulder and just breathe him in. 

He stayed that way as Neil finished up the bacon and made up a package of sausages too. He felt absolutely no shame shuffling along with Neil as he moved to the fridge to get some eggs, and was perfectly content to continue leaning on him until breakfast was almost completely done. Only when waking sounds from the bedroom heralded the interruption of their other roommates did Andrew reluctantly pull back. Neil turned his head to watch him go with amused understanding written in the set of his eyes and the slight curve of his lips. 

It wasn’t that he and Neil were actively hiding their relationship - they weren’t. They were just private people and so far this morning had actually been _good_. Andrew didn’t need to hear Kevin lecturing about how their relationship may impact their careers, nor did he care for any of Nicky’s predictable comments or further probing when privacy was already hard enough to come by. 

So he pulled away and tried not to be pissy about it. 

Neil caught his eye with a smirk and lifted his hands. Then he signed, “Tonight,” and Andrew’s mood restored a bit. He was right. Tonight, after the game, he and Neil would get in the Maserati and drive straight to Columbia, just the two of them. No Nicky, no Kevin, no Aaron - no one else. They’d have tonight, all day tomorrow, and most of Sunday morning to themselves. 

“Oooooo! Bacon AND sausage!?!? I feel spoiled. _Deliciously_ spoiled.” Andrew ignored Nicky as he bounced into the kitchen, moving instead to make himself a cup of coffee. 

“We have a game today,” Kevin chided disapprovingly. “All that grease isn’t a good idea. It’ll slow us down.”

“Kevin, shut the fuck up or the only thing you’re getting are eggwhites,” Neil retorted back casually, not bothering to look at him as he finished up with breakfast. 

Nicky snickered, propping one elbow on Neil’s shoulder and leaning lightly on him. “Come on, Kev! We have like, ten hours until the game. Besides, we need the protein from a good strong breakfast!”

Kevin grumbled but didn’t push it any further. “Fine, but we should hit the court during lunch for some extra practice.” This didn’t need to be said - it was a fairly regular routine on Fridays at this point. Kevin and Neil would hit the court. They only had one practice on Fridays, earlier than their usual evening practices and abridged so that they wouldn’t wear themselves out or risk hurting themselves right before a game - and that just wasn’t enough for a couple of exy junkies. Andrew would tag along if he was bored enough. Nicky would get roped in if he was anywhere in the vicinity, as would any of the other Foxes. 

Andrew had to roll his eyes when he saw Neil already nodding along, looking downright _eager_ , and it wasn’t about the bacon he was adding to his plate. 

“I thought you had a test this afternoon you wanted to study for,” he pointed out in what he knew was a fruitless attempt to steer the junkie away from more time on his precious court.

Neil made a face and pointed a piece of bacon at him. “I’ll be fine. I’ve got some time this morning to study, and if I really need to I can look over my notes during my morning class. I won’t be missing anything vital.”

“Right.” Andrew stole the bacon right from Neil’s fingertips, making the idiot scoff and lean forward to try to grab it back, but Andrew shoved the whole thing in his mouth before he could. Then he swiped two more pieces right off the junkie’s plate for good measure and stuffed those in his mouth too. 

“Andrew!”

Cheeks full and feeling satisfied, Andrew fixed Neil with a deadpan stare as he chewed his prize slowly.

“You are disgusting.” This was Kevin’s input and Andrew didn’t even bother looking over at him as he gave him a couple of middle fingers to mull over. 

“Leave him be,” Neil said then through an aggrieved sigh. “What do you think about going through the new attack patterns this afternoon?” Andrew tuned them out after that, letting their conversation fade into a dull hum of _’blah blah exy exy exy blah exy blah blah’_.

He _did_ notice that Kevin dug into the food Neil had spread across the table as if _he_ hadn’t been the one to bitch about it not even a whole five minutes ago. It was Nicky who caught his eye across the table, and when his cousin rolled his eyes and mouthed ‘typical’, Andrew smirked into his coffee.

*****

The message came in about halfway through Andrew’s ten o’clock class. 

_pipedream:_  
**dan just posted in the group chat that the game is cancelled**

_You:_  
and they say good things never happen

_pipedream:_  
**some kinda scandal on the other teams end**

_pipedream:_  
**dan says she’ll have more info @ practice**

_You:_  
why do we have practice? 

_pipedream:_  
**....drew**

_pipedream:_  
**just bc theres no game doesnt mean we dont get to practice**

_pipedream:_  
**we might even get to have a normal practice length bc we dont have to worry about getting worn out before a game**

_You:_  
fuckin junkie

 _pipedream:_  
**you like it** [fox emoji with heart eyes] **don’t lie**

 _You:_  
…

 _You:_  
i hate u

 _pipedream:_  
[grinning fox emoji][exy racquet] [heart] [angry cat emoji][knife]

Andrew stared at that one way longer than he would ever, _ever_ admit to. He also absolutely was not having to fight the impulse for his face to do something stupid, like _smile_. No, he was clearly biting down hard on the inside of his cheek to keep himself from sneering in disgust.

 _You:_  
139%

Andrew backed out of the conversation and tapped on the one with Nicky, knowing that it was absolutely him who taught his idiot little rabbit how to use emojis. 

_You:_  
3 pints - double chocolate fudge, moose tracks, and candy supreme - and 2 bottles of walker or u forfeit ur right kidney

_nicky:_  
**wut did i do!?!?!?!**

_You:_  
you know what you did

_nicky:_  
**No! I don’t! I rlly rlly dont!!!!!**

_nicky:_  
**Andrew!!!**

Andrew set his phone to silent and shoved it back in his pocket. His terms had been extended and there was no further need to engage.

*****

Andrew only needed to threaten one person for getting too close and trying to ‘bro-up’ regarding the game that wasn’t even happening anymore. The second he got back to Fox Tower he dragged off the jersey and exchanged it for something significantly less day-glo, then collapsed onto the couch and flicked on the tv for background noise as he did a little bit of homework. Neil got back not too much later and sequestered himself to his desk to dive into studying. By him doing so, Andrew assumed that he’d changed his mind about the lunch-time practice, which suited him just fine - especially if the fucking junkie was going to push for them having a longer afternoon practice.

It wasn’t until Kevin got in that Andrew realized he suddenly had an opportunity. 

“Neil, come on. Let’s go.” Kevin hadn’t even taken his shoes off when he entered the dorm, apparently intending to stop in just long enough to drop off his backpack and grab his sports bag - and collect Neil so they could go to the court.

Neil didn’t even look up. He waved one hand dismissively in Kevin’s general direction. “Not going. Gonna study.”

“Excuse me?” Kevin drawled slowly, like there was some kind of hidden exy play in Neil’s words that he must have missed.

“You’re excused,” Neil responded flippantly, still without bothering to look over at him. 

Kevin made a sound like a constipated squirrel. “Neil, you can’t skip practice.”

This time Neil sat up and twisted in his chair to look at Kevin with a heavy sigh. “Kevin, the game tonight has been cancelled and I have a test right before practice this afternoon. Not going to our non-required impromptu lunchtime practice isn’t going to screw me over. Not taking the opportunity to study for this test when I suddenly _do_ have the time I can use for it? That might.” He spoke slowly, like Kevin was maybe four years old, and there was a clear crease of annoyance between his eyebrows. 

“You can’t be serious.” Kevin sounded shocked that anything could ever be more urgent than extra exy practice, and angry that Neil dare be the one to suggest it.

Andrew looked over at Neil in time to see him roll his eyes and turn around, flipping Kevin off over his shoulder as he went back to his studying. When Kevin moved as if he was going to approach Neil to try and convince him again, Andrew rolled his eyes and grabbed his keys, standing up suddenly enough that Kevin paused to look at him. Andrew met his gaze, livid green to cold, bored hazel. 

“If you want a ride, keep up. Otherwise I will skip the court and just get tacos.” Then he headed for the door, not bothering to let it swing shut behind him. He knew Kevin well by now, and knew the obsessive moron wouldn’t be far behind him. 

True to form, Kevin caught up to him before he even hit the elevators, grumbling to himself - though Andrew didn’t care enough to attempt to catch what he was complaining about specifically. It might have been Neil, or it might have been the exy racquet wedged up his ass - which had to be chafing something fierce considering his head was also stuck up there too. Either way, Kevin was happy enough to mutter under his breath - at least until they got to the court. 

It was when they were in the locker rooms, Kevin fussing with his gear and Andrew sitting on the bench dicking around with his phone as he waited, that the striker turned to Andrew in accusation.

“Neil should be here. He had plenty of time to get studying done this week, plus he’s got all weekend.” Andrew wasn’t sure how this was _his_ fault, but he was more than willing to take the opening. There were a few things Kevin really needed to understand and now was as good a time as any to bring them into focus.

“Still think he’s _slacking_ , then?” Andrew shot at him without missing a beat, allowing the chill of his displeasure to replace the boredom he’d held onto up until this point. Kevin stiffened, and Andrew watched as the striker remembered the events of Tuesday night. He kept his own gaze trained on the taller man’s face as Kevin looked off toward the court, undoubtedly replaying the image of Neil driving himself into the ground as he worked through his demons in a self-destructive fervor. 

Andrew let him ruminate on that for a moment before he continued, unwilling to give Kevin the chance to break in with some other typically exy-centric deflection. “What exactly is Neil to you, Kevin?”

The bluntness of the question, or maybe that Andrew was saying anything at all on the subject, clearly startled Kevin. His mouth dropped open and hung there for a moment, gaping unattractively like a trash bin with the hinge removed from its swing top. When he finally gathered himself enough to shut his trap he continued to stare at Andrew wide-eyed. Andrew waited patiently for the geats in his pea-sized brain to start to churn again, until Kevin seemed to realize that he was content to wait all afternoon if necessary to get his answer. 

He shifted awkwardly where he stood, fiddling with something hanging in his locker. 

“I… Andrew, look… I don’t know what would have made you think… I’m straight. There’s nothing--”

Andrew let out a huff of a sound that was almost a laugh, shaking his head. “Oh shut up, Day. That is not what I meant.” He decided not to challenge the ‘straight’ bit. Kevin’s internalized homophobia was a problem for a different day and honestly, a different fucking person. Someone _else_ could tell the ignorant buffoon that the little pitter-patter his heart made whenever Jeremy Knox entered the court, room, conversation, _fucking stratosphere_ \- had less to do about his exy skills and more to do with his pretty smile and the way his ass looked in fitted shorts (Andrew was in a committed relationship and he didn’t do sunshine boys, but he wasn’t fucking _blind_ , thank you). 

“Then what did you mean?” Kevin asked warily, like he wasn’t quite sure of Andrew’s motives here. Which, Andrew privately conceded, was probably fair. It wasn’t like he was known for sitting people down to have these heart-to-hearts. Andrew’s approach to dealing with other people tended to play out more like a slasher flick than a Hallmark special. 

Still, there were exceptions to everything and if the inconvenience of _maturity_ and fucking _personal growth_ were going to continue to cramp his personal style he supposed there was no reason why he should have to suffer alone. Might as well drag the rest of the monsters down with him. 

“Just what I said, Day. What is Josten to you?”

“He’s…” Kevin floundered, and Andrew was unsurprised to realize that Kevin probably had never thought about it before. He was also unsurprised that ‘friend’ didn’t come immediately to the striker’s mind. Kevin probably knew less about friendship than any of the rest of them, Andrew included. Growing up in the Nest, with Riko as a “brother” - having to figure out a way to survive, to _thrive_ in that toxic place… yeah, Andrew would have been downright suspicious if Kevin came out of that ready to sing kumbaya with the Foxes - even a fucked up junkie like Neil. 

“He’s… a Fox,” Kevin finally said, his tone almost hesitant. Andrew raised a brow and gestured for him to keep going. “He’s the best striker on the team, other than me.”

Andrew rolled his eyes. “To you, Day. What is he _to you_. Just another racquet on the Court? Maybe we could see about trading him with USC, they might even give us Sunny Boy Knox.”

“No,” Kevin said so quickly that Andrew could practically hear the little ‘click’ of understanding in Kevin’s tiny little exy-shrine brain. “No. He’s my partner. We do this together. Here, with the Foxes. One day we’ll play for the US Court.” He eyed Andrew in an annoyingly familiar way. “You can get there too you know, if you--”

“We are not talking about me right now, Kevin.” He gave the other man a hard look and Kevin rolled his eyes, but dropped the topic for now. It was an argument that Andrew had been refusing to engage with now for _years_ and he didn’t intend to join in anytime soon. “You just called Neil your partner,” he said instead - which had been what he’d been hoping Kevin would jump too sooner, but at least he’d made the damn connection on his own without Andrew having to spell it the fuck out for him. “Only when it comes to stickball, or what?”

He said it specifically to make Kevin wince, as payback for bringing up all his ‘potential’ again. 

Kevin sighed. “Andrew, what is this all about?”

“Do you only care about what Neil does on the court or do you see him as an actual fucking person, Kevin - that is what I am asking you. Now are you going to answer the fucking question or just keep skittering around it like a fucking _rat?_ ” Andrew spat out with more vehemence than he’d initially intended. Oh, apparently his temper was still there from the absolutely fucking _avoidable_ bullshit that went down Tuesday night. 

Kevin’s jaw tightened - in shock or anger or defensiveness, Andrew didn’t know nor did he care. He just stared at the other man until, finally, he took a deep breath and answered. “Of course I do. But it’s what he does on the court that _matters_ \- don’t you fucking get that?”

No, no he fucking _did not_. Andrew only cared about what Neil did on the court in relation to the way it made his stupid rabbit smile. What mattered to _him_ was Neil’s contentment. Was Neil’s developing grasp on his own fucking identity that he should have had a fucking say in _before_ he was nineteen fucking years old. Was Neil on soft mornings, making bacon and moving with absolutely no fucking rhythm to stupid songs on his phone. Was Neil wrapping himself up in Andrew’s name and Andrew’s scent on bad days so he felt more grounded - and on good days just because he wanted to. 

What mattered? What fucking mattered was Neil’s smile. Neil’s hands. Neil’s heart beating under his cheek as they layed together just because they fucking _could_ because after twenty fucking years of a life where the idea of touch scared the shit out of Andrew _so much_ that he had been physically repulsed by the idea, he now had someone he trusted so completely that he actively _craved_ that contact seventy-fucking-percent of the time. 

So no. He didn’t fucking _get it._

“Explain it to me, Kevin,” he gritted out - so slowly and so softly that his words may have been indecipherable if he didn’t curve the edge of his anger just enough to slash precise enunciation into each and every syllable. 

“Neil can’t come back from being dead,” Kevin responded instantly, his voice harder and colder than Andrew had ever heard it and Andrew almost lashed out and punched him for it. Then he looked directly at his face and saw that the tone was in distinct opposition to the raw panic in his eyes. “If Neil is not perfect, if he is not _the best_ , if he doesn’t prove to be a worthwhile investment - he’s _dead_. I’d think you of all people would get that, would want him to _survive_ , Andrew! After what happened to him in Baltimore--”

“No.” Andrew half-hissed, half-growled the word, standing up from the bench he’d been sitting on this whole time. He pointed a finger at Kevin in hard warning. “No. You do not bring that up. You, _you_ do not talk to me about Baltimore. Not when you knew it was going to happen.”

“I… I didn’t know they were going to take him, Andrew,” Kevin stammered out, his voice raw and one hand reaching up to touch his throat as if he could still feel the phantom of Andrew’s fingers tightening around it. 

“You fucking knew his days were numbered. You knew he was expecting _something_. You knew there were people after him. You knew _who_ was after him. You knew I wanted to protect him. And it didn’t even occur to you to tell me.” Andrew had almost forgotten the oil slick of this particular patch of hatred. He’d forgotten the flame of this exact point of his fury. It burned righteously in his veins and Andrew took a step closer to Kevin. “You were too much of a resigned fucking coward, willing to just stand aside and let him die than even fucking _try_. You were going to let him _die_ , Kevin. You were going to just let him… just let him fucking go off and _die_ without even a fucking thought. What, was it too _distracting_ from your precious fucking _game_ to give two shits about the man who _stood by you every single fucking second_ when it would have saved his own **life** to turn around and run the other way?”

Andrew had built his life up from the ashes of rage, of pain, of fear, and of hate, on a framework of reciprocity. Deals and promises. Excruciatingly precise balances. Relationships with clear, defined rules and expectations. Give and get - equal exchange. He didn’t need it as much anymore, but that philosophy was still the basis of who he had crafted himself to be when anyone else would have made him out to be _nothing_ and left him for dead or worse. Maybe that’s why what Kevin had done - or more accurately, what Kevin had _not_ done, what he had _never_ done - was bothering him so intensely. 

There was very little blood left in Kevin’s face. He looked ashen and weak, almost sickly, the green of his eyes a tepid mold smeared around the frightfully dilated pits of his pupils. He opened his mouth several times without letting out more than a few strangled gasps. 

Andrew waited. He watched, furious, and he waited for the explanation that Kevin fucking _owed_ him.

Finally, after what could have been five minutes and what could have been twenty, Kevin gritted his teeth and with great effort lifted his gaze to meet Andrew’s. He could only hold it for a second before it dropped again. His hands were in tight fists, shaking at his sides. 

“All I could give him was the game. All… all I _can_ give him is the game. All I… all I can give _anyone_ is the game, Andrew.”

Andrew expected Kevin to sound weak and flimsy, the cellophane replica of what should have been the spirit of a man - plastic and clingy and badly formed into what might have been a shape if you knew what it was supposed to be imitating. 

Instead, Kevin’s voice was thick and filled with so much _disgust_ that Andrew had to pause. He studied Kevin carefully and kept a firm grip on his own anger, unwilling to let the fledgling idea of compassion worm it’s way through the phalanx of his protective rage. 

“When I figured out who Neil was… _Fuck_. He should have ran, Andrew. He should have ran. He _tried_ to. Barely, but he did try at first. When he saw me in Millport, when he knew Wymack was there to sign him. He tried to say no, but he wanted to play the game so badly he was willing to risk everything for even just a few months of it. Then he was here and he kept… he put himself between me and Riko, again and again. He riled me on the court. He pushed me. He challenged me. He… he protected me, just like you did. Both of you stood for me like…” 

He paused, his whole body locking up in a tension that struck Andrew as being jarringly familiar - because it looked exactly the same as when Neil was trying to speak, when he _needed_ to speak, but his mind was not allowing the words to form and break through. 

Kevin, however, was able to shove the words out - and he did it with the violence and desperation of a drowning man surging up through thin ice on a frosted lake, _fighting_ for the privilege of air that _should_ have been a natural-born right. 

“You stood for me like Riko should have!” The words came out loud and harsh and were punctuated by a fist into the lockers. “I am _not_ a protector. I am not a friend. I am not a brother. I am not a partner. I thought I was those things, I thought I could be those things once - but I know that I’m not and that I never will be. The only thing I _am_ is exy. It’s all I have to give Neil. I can’t be there for him like you can. I can’t be his friend like the Foxes can. But I can give him his game. I can make sure he stays alive because if the Moriyamas--” Kevin’s voice broke and he let out a sound that was more reminiscent of a half-wild, cornered animal than an exy superstar as he hit the lockers again. 

Understanding was bitter on Andrew’s tongue. It wrapped around his lungs like a lead blanket and forced his rage back under his skin. It wasn’t gone, but it smoldered. It simmered, waiting and hungry, and Andrew let it fill his eyes as he slowly moved so that he was standing right in front of Kevin - just far enough away so that he didn’t have to actually crane his head back and only had to lift his chin to look the man in the eyes. 

“Do you know what Neil said to me that night on the court, Kevin?” His voice came out steady, but far rougher than he intended. He wanted to project something colder, something untouchable, but the problem with feeling things was that once you started it wasn’t really something you could easily pull away from. 

Andrew watched as Kevin’s Adam’s apple bobbed with a thick swallow, then the striker slowly shook his head in answer. 

Andrew’s hands lifted and he signed along as he spoke. “Because I am nothing. Nothing. **N-o-t-h-i-n-g.** Nothing. Me. I’m _nothing._ I should be nothing. Should be no one.” He fingerspelled the third time he said the word, just as Neil had done - keeping his voice clear even as it rumbled with the edge of a growl at the nearness of that memory. When he finished, he dropped his hands and glared up at Kevin. “That is what he said to me. When he feels like that, when he is reduced down to being _nothing_ like that - the one thing he can always turn to is exy. It is the one dream he has always allowed himself, and so when everything else he has built seems out of reach or overwhelming - it is the only thing he can still grasp. 

“And you - _you_ , Kevin - are supposed to be the one who understands that about him. _You_ were supposed to be able to see it, to help him _lean_ on it when he needs to work through his shit or just stay afloat in it long enough to catch his fucking breath. You can not tell me you do not understand exactly where he is at when it comes to exy when you _just_ told me that you think all you are is exy.” 

There were too many different things in Kevin’s eyes, in the set of his shoulders, in the shake of his breath and the clenching of his hands, for Andrew to know what he was thinking or feeling at the moment but there were parts of it he could guess. He didn’t know Kevin the same way that he knew Neil or even how he knew Aaron and Nicky - but he understood the fear on Kevin’s face when it flashed, mingling with the rest. He thought he could discern anger too, and disgust was a frank enough emotion on anyone’s face that he couldn’t have missed it if he tried. 

He’d also learned enough about Kevin in this single encounter to know that all of them were pointed inward and he realized that this was another one of those moments he hated so much. This was another one of those moments where he had an opening, a chance to step forward and extend a hand that wasn’t already wielding a knife. He could choose to offer a vulnerability, expose a weakness, and risk a deeper cut.

Andrew hesitated. He thought about the shift in his and Aaron’s relationship. He thought about his hands around Kevin’s throat. He thought about Neil calling Kevin his friend. He thought about Kevin failing to be there for Neil in return. He thought about Neil’s ‘ _nothing_ ’ and Kevin’s ‘ _the only thing I am is exy_ ’. He thought so long that the moment was almost lost.

( _Or maybe,_ something quiet and new - or maybe just newly refound - inside of him murmured, _moments are never lost, maybe they are just abandoned._ )

“You are more than exy,” Andrew finally said into the charged silence of the locker room. 

The look on Kevin’s face had Andrew realizing that no one had probably ever said that to him before. He wondered if that’s what his own face might have looked like if he had had the capacity to emote back when Neil first started tossing him lifeline after lifeline in the finely shaded lines of his smiles and the sunrise cresting the expanse of blue in those eternity-painted eyes. 

“You are more than exy,” Andrew said again. There was no gentleness in his voice, no warmth or reassurance. It was hard, cold as armor and steady as the beat of time itself.

“Then what… what am I?” Kevin choked out, and his voice was small - so small it was almost childlike, a hoarse whisper of a boy behind the closet door asking if it was really safe to come out.

Andrew was not equipped to be that man to pull him out. He couldn’t tell Kevin what he was. Who he was. What he could _be_. But he was the only person here right now and by opening that door he had committed to facing what was on the other side. 

“What do you want to be?” Andrew asked, and realized as he said the words that he was actually, _genuinely_ curious. Fuck. He supposed he and Kevin really _were_ friends. 

Well.

Andrew watched Kevin flounder for another thirty seconds, then he reached around him with a sigh and smacked his locker shut. 

“Wh-what..?”

Ignoring the moron’s confused incredulity, Andrew grabbed Kevin’s bag and threw it at him. As the dumbfuck striker fumbled catching it, he pulled out his phone and selected one of the five pinned contacts. It rang twice before a gruff, unamused voice barked out at him, “This better fucking not be you telling me you’ve knifed someone, Minyard. I swear, once - just fucking _once_ there’s a scandal that _doesn’t_ include us - and--”

Andrew rolled his eyes and cut him off before he could really get going. “Time for you to play Father of the Year, old man.”

“Wait. What?” A pause, then the man’s voice went way to even to truly be calm. “Kevin? What happened? Is he alright?”

“Your kid is having an existential crisis. You get to fix it. Happy Birthday or whatever.” Kevin was looking at him with wide eyes, opening and closing his mouth again like he’d forgotten how jaws worked. He might have been trying to protest, but Andrew really didn’t care. He wasn’t the one to push Kevin through this, but he could get him to someone who could do a fuck of a lot more than Andrew ever could even if he _knew_ where to start. Besides, this kind of shit? You had to choose the person who led you through it, at least on some level. Kevin chose David Wymack the day he showed up bleeding at his hotel room the night of the winter banquet two years ago. 

“Where are you?” In the background, Andrew heard the shuffling of papers and keys, then the knock of an elbow or a knee on solid wood followed by a hissed expletive. 

Andrew rolled his eyes. “At the court, where else?” When Wymack cursed again, Andrew actually felt kind of impressed by the ferocity of that particular quick litany and he realized that Wymack probably knew Kevin way better than the moron realized he did. Andrew let his gaze slip over to the moron in question, who had sank down to sit on the bench in some kind of bewildered stupor, as he said, “Don’t pull any of the pigs away from their donuts just yet, Coach, he hasn’t done himself any damage. Well, he may vegetize himself if he tries to think any harder than he is right now.” 

Oh, so he _was_ paying attention, judging by the sharp glare he just got. 

“The fuck happened, Minyard?” Wymack was saying. 

Andrew gave Kevin the finger and said into the phone, “Get the story from him. Not mine to tell.”

That cooled Kevin’s temper into surprise again and Andrew rolled his eyes, hanging up on whatever the coach was saying and slipping his phone into his pocket. 

“Why are you doing this?” Kevin said, and Andrew thought it said something that there was no suspicion in his voice at all - just confusion, and maybe something else too, something that hinted at the remaining shreds of the other man’s innocence. He didn’t know _what_ it said, and he wasn’t interested in dwelling on it either. 

Instead he sighed and leveled a steady look at the other man before looking toward the door that led away from the court and into the lobby. “We are never going to sing fucking kumbaya or braid each other’s hair, Day, but we are friends.” He looked back at him, challenging Kevin’s shock with his own unapologetic confidence in the statement. If he was going to do this, he may as well fucking stand by it. “Talk to your dad. Or don’t, whatever. Talk to _someone_. Talk to Neil. Talk to me, if you want. I probably won’t have anything useful to say, but I will listen.” He pointed at him. “And fucking next time? Screw what the fuck you _think_ your bullshit limitations are. You call Neil your partner? Fucking act like it, on _and_ off the court.”

Andrew watched as Kevin swallowed, as he absorbed what he’d said and everything behind it. He wondered if the moron was going to crumble or protest, say he couldn’t again, that he didn’t have that to give. If he did, Andrew didn’t have the patience to deal with it a second time and he didn’t know _what_ his reaction would be. 

However, Kevin took a deep breath and seemed to make himself stand straighter, then he actually met Andrew’s eyes and held his gaze. He didn’t break it, not even to blink, as he gave a steady nod. 

Andrew didn’t know what was going on in Kevin’s head. He didn’t know if he’d had some sort of an epiphany, or if this was just a momentary flash of depth and he’d fall back into his jelly-spined self the second he had to prove it. He didn’t know if Kevin _got it_ , but at least for the moment he was willing to accept what he was being given. He nodded back, then he pulled his keys from his pocket and headed for the door. 

He paused as he pulled it open, glancing over his shoulder. “Come on, Kevin. I’ll wait with you until the Coach gets here.”

Kevin opened his mouth, then shut it again and nodded before picking up his bag and moving to follow Andrew out. They didn’t say anything else as they settled in the lounge to wait, and the silence between them wasn’t exactly _comfortable_ \- Kevin was still too hyped up, his knee bouncing as he fussed with his hands anxiously - but it wasn’t hostile either. When Wymack showed up, Andrew stood and walked away without looking at either of them - though he did slow _just slightly_ as he pushed open the door to head out to his car. 

Behind him, he heard Wymack say Kevin’s name and in the dim reflection of the glass door he saw Kevin stand. He heard a sound - and it might have been a word, it might have been _’Dad.?’_ riding on quiet gasp. Just before the door opened too wide for it to catch the scene behind him, he may have even seen the coach step forward and from the angle it may have even looked like he’d pulled the tall, awkward almost-adult into his arms in a fierce hug. Maybe. 

It was hard to tell, and of course, Andrew didn’t really care anyway. Not even a little bit. Not even at all.

*****

Andrew didn’t tell Neil what happened with Kevin in the locker room when he got back to the dorms, and Neil didn’t ask. He looked up briefly when Andrew returned so soon, then frowned in confusion when he didn’t see Kevin - but at Andrew’s dismissive shrug he easily let it go in favor of returning to his studying. After grabbing himself a snack from the kitchen, Andrew went back to his own small pile of homework and the two worked in silence through the break. 

They left a little bit early for their afternoon classes so they could swing through the dining hall for a quick lunch on the go and Andrew had enough time to walk with Neil to his building before diverting to his own.

From there, the afternoon was uneventful leading up to practice. Kevin hadn’t made it back to the dorm by the time the rest of them piled into the Maserati to head over to the court, but Andrew wasn’t surprised to see him already waiting in the team lounge when they got there, lounging in his usual seat and watching something on his phone. His crisis had either been effectively handled or tabled for later, because there was absolutely nothing about his expression or demeanor that even suggested anything had happened a few hours ago.

He looked up when the team came in, his eyes flicking to Andrew, then landing on Neil. He lifted his chin in a sharp, clear order. “Neil.”

Unperturbed by the bark of Kevin’s autocratic tone, Neil shifted his bag on his shoulder and headed over to him, dropping down in the seat beside him and peering over at whatever Kevin was looking at. When offered, Neil accepted one of the earbuds and popped it into his ear. Andrew rolled his eyes as he took his own usual seat on Neil’s other side and peered over to see what they were looking at. 

Fucking exy. It was some kind of commentary and Andrew lost interest before he figured out anything more than that. 

The rest of the Foxes gradually trickled in over the next few minutes and once the last stragglers (most of the freshmen) had arrived, Dan stood and moved to take her favorite place in front of the large rolling whiteboard. 

She clapped her hands a few times to get their attention. “Alright! So the other team were apparently caught taking performance enhancers. At first they’d thought it was only two members of the team, which was why it took them so long to forfeit, but they found out this morning that it was a lot more widespread. The NCAA is pushing the ECA to do a full investigation of the whole division, just in case they weren’t the only team that was juicing up.”

“Wait, hold up - what do you mean ‘a full investigation of the whole division’?” one of the freshman girls asked. The striker, Nora-something. She looked angry in the way that loudly shouted ‘I’m nervous because I probably carry drugs on me everywhere’.

Dan met her eyes. “Just what I said. They want the ECA to send out inspectors to come check out all the teams. Drug tests, locker room searches, dorm searches if they feel it's necessary.”

“Ooh, ‘if they feel it’s necessary’, that’s a nice touch,” Reynolds sighed. “What?” she challenged when everyone looked at her. “We’re Foxes. They’re going to assume we’re all high and search our dorms before they hit the court, you know they will. I’m just saying what's on all of your minds.”

“Can they _do_ that?” asked Sheena, and she sounded even more pissed off than Nora. 

Dan grimaced. “Technically? Yeah, it’s in our contracts. They have to have just cause, of course - but considering the drug abuse issues with previous generations of the teams and in multiple current Foxes’ records _and_ a potential region-wide drug scandal..?” She shrugged and looked around at the team. “Look, we shouldn’t even know about it - but Abby is in contact with the team nurse of the team that got busted and he was kind enough to give warning. It’s pretty likely the ECA is going to agree with the NCAA’s demands, and it’s also pretty likely that they’re going to come here first.”

“How soon do you think they’ll show up?” This was from Rowan, the usually quiet defensive dealer. Andrew had noticed that he tended to stick around Caleb or the freshman goalie, Hayley, even though the former typically treated him like shit and the latter was afraid of her own shadow. He hadn’t bothered to learn anything else about the man, having decided he was neither a threat nor interesting enough to devote any attention to. 

Dan gave a sigh and shrugged. “It’s hard to say. Probably not tonight - but potentially that soon? I think for sure by Monday, but I wouldn’t put it past them to come by during the weekend, especially if they want to get us out of the way before rumors start to spread.”

There was a breakup of different chatter that sprung up at this as everyone complained or fussed in a degree of volumes and intensity. Dan let it continue for only a minute before she called attention again with a sharp “Hey!” that anyone else could have tried and been utterly ignored. 

“Look, I know it’s a pain and the ass and that some of you are nervous and rightfully pissed off at the idea of the ECA getting into our business - but we don’t want to make trouble here, got it?” Her expression turned hard as she looked around the room. “I also don’t want us to give them any reason to cut our team down or bring this scandal to _our_ doorstep.” She seemed to look a bit longer at the freshman girls, here. Nora met her gaze and bared her teeth in the semblance of a smile and Sheena rolled her eyes. Hayley appeared to shrink into the cushions. Then Dan went ahead and looked right at _Andrew_ , to which all he did was raise a single eyebrow. He amused himself by thinking what Neil would say if he figured out that Dan had just silently implied she thought that Andrew would have drugs in their room. 

Or maybe the captain just thought he was hiding evidence of murder. 

Dan didn’t take too long passing out her silent judgement before she addressed the team as a whole again. “The point being, that we need to make sure our asses are covered. There’s no practice tonight, so do what you need to do. I don’t need to know what exactly that is, but if you need to talk about anything don’t hesitate to come find me. You can also text or call your VC.” Here she gestured at Neil, who nodded his agreement, his expression serious. 

“I won’t be in town this weekend, but I’ll be reachable by phone. I might not answer right away, though, so if it’s an emergency get in touch with Dan or Coach.”

Jack scoffed, because it was apparently impossible for him not to react when Neil said anything, especially when acting in his rightful position of authority as the vice captain. He opened his mouth to say something but a pillow flew across the space and smacked him in the face. Andrew didn’t see where it had come from - but both Nicky and Matt looked way too innocent. 

Before the little shitstain could start in on something Dan clapped her hands again and loudly talked over the snickers and mild murmurs. “Alright, that’s it. I’ve got to chat with the coach, so if you need me immediately I’ll be here for a little bit. Otherwise, get your asses out of here. Take care of your shit and enjoy the weekend. Monday we’re at the court for both practices so don’t be an idiot and show up at the gym. No one will be there and you’ll be running me five laps for every minute you’re late.”

There were predictable groans at that, but more of the team was excited about getting a free Friday night even if they suddenly had to find a place to stash their contraband in case of an impromptu drug search and screening. What was notably absent, however, were Kevin and Neil’s predictable protests. Neil had responded when Dan pointed him out - and hadn’t denied that he’d be out of town, but Andrew had honestly expected him to try and slip in a question about if they _had_ to cancel practice. After all, the junkie had been the one to be all hopeful about a longer afternoon practice thanks to the cancelled game. Andrew found it hard to believe that Neil was so willing to just let it go. And even if Andrew was vain enough to consider that Neil had decided an early getaway to their weekend was worth more than exy practice, Kevin didn’t have that kind of incentive.

Or maybe he did, just in a bit of a different vein. Andrew had just looked over to try and glean some sort of understanding from Kevin and saw that the striker was already standing and heading toward where Wymack had been leaning against the wall throughout Dan’s little meeting. When he reached him, the older man landed a heavy hand on the younger’s shoulder.

Aha. 

Andrew left them to their father-long-lost-son bonding and looked over at his rabbit. He was unsurprised to see Neil staring at him with a stupid look on his stupid face. With a roll of his eyes, Andrew pushed his face away and then stood. He ignored Neil’s laugh as he headed out of the building and made his way to the Maserati. He had a cigarette as he waited for the others, and raised a brow in curiosity when only Neil and Aaron ended up making their way over. 

“Kevin is staying with Coach and Nicky is heading off with Matt,” Neil filled him in with a shrug as he rounded the car to slip into the front seat and Aaron took his usual position in the back. 

Andrew gave a small nod of acknowledgement and started the car. 

“Hey, can you drop me off at Katelyn’s dorm?” Aaron asked from the back seat as they headed out of the parking lot. He didn’t even bother to hide the excitement in his voice, the fucking sap. Andrew didn’t respond, but he did take a left out of the lot instead of a right - which Aaron must have noted because he also didn’t needle him for an answer. 

It was after they dropped off Aaron and were on their way back to Fox Tower that Andrew finally allowed his curiosity to get the better of him. 

“I’m surprised you didn’t stage a coup when Dan announced that practice was cancelled.” He kept his voice empty and bored, his gaze on the road - but he could tell that Neil wasn’t fooled from the hint of a smile that teased out of his periphery. 

Neil hummed and leaned back in his seat with a shrug. “It’s not like it would have been a productive practice, anyway. The freshmen were all freaking out and the upperclassman have been craving a long weekend.”

“Uh-huh,” Andrew deadpanned, exhibiting his lack of belief in _that_ excuse with a small sea of sarcasm. He didn’t need to be looking at Neil to know that the idiot was rolling his eyes at him. 

“Okay, maybe it’s been a bit of a rough week,” Neil said after another minute. Andrew benevolently decided not to comment on that little bit of an understatement. When Neil didn’t immediately continue, Andrew looked briefly over at him. Neil was looking out the window, his expression more serious, but not distressed - so he left him to his thoughts for the rest of the short drive. Once at Fox Tower, he parked and turned off the car but didn’t immediately move to get out. After another few minutes, Neil sighed and shifted in his seat to look at him directly and Andrew met his stare without hesitation.

“I don’t like the idea of ECA poking around at my Foxes. I don’t want them sticking their noses into our business, digging into our lockers or our rooms.” Neil was trying to keep his tone even but he wasn’t nearly as good at it as Andrew was, and Andrew could hear the flash of indignant, protective ire. “But there’s nothing I can do about it.” He didn’t even _try_ to hide the bitterness there. “In this case, there’s nothing for me to do - nothing I _can_ do. So, I could stay here, I could spend some extra practice on the court thinking about the team and everything that might or might not happen in the next few days…” 

He paused, then reached out and hovered his hand half an inch away from Andrew’s cheek. When Andrew closed the distance by leaning into the touch without Neil having to ask, he finally saw a small smile kiss across his rabbit’s lips. 

There was a short, charged silence, and when Neil continued his voice was steadier and his ocean-swept eyes were filled with something sure and focused. The weight of that gaze did something to Andrew’s chest that felt not-unlike a punch to the ribs if that punch had the heat of a hungry kiss.

“Or I could accept that this is out of my hands and choose to spend a few extra hours with my partner, if he’ll have me.”

Andrew forgot how to breathe for a moment. He forgot how to speak. He forgot about being in a car and forgot about the very _existence_ of Palmetto State University. He forgot everything except for the man in front of him - because he needed to clear out everything else in order to process the realization that given the choice to obsess over exy and give in to his neurosis and anxiety or spend extra time with Andrew - Neil was choosing Andrew. It was more than just Andrew winning one against stickball. It was Neil _choosing something that would make him happy_ over something that would make him hurt but felt inevitable. 

It was the realization that Andrew made Neil happy.

Andrew had long ago accepted that he could make Neil feel safe, but _happy_ wasn’t anything that he had ever ascribed to himself and it wasn’t something he had ever considered contributing to in regards to Neil either. Neil had his Foxes and his exy, they made him happy. Andrew could make him feel _good_ , sure - especially in a sexual sense. He could make him feel safe and he could make him feel wanted, but happy?

The gentle brush of Neil’s thumb over his cheek refocused him on the here and now, drawing him out of his thoughts and back to the man in front of him. Neil was studying him, his mouth soft and his gaze steady, eyebrows drawn slightly in with a mix of curiosity and the barest grace of concern. His arm tensed slightly but before he could pull away Andrew lifted his own hand and placed it over Neil’s to keep them in contact. Then he turned his head just enough to be able to press a small kiss to Neil’s palm.

All the concern and confusion was instantly swept out of Neil’s eyes and was replaced with an ocean of warmth that Andrew didn’t have a name for. He wasn’t sure one could exist. Spoken language was too small to label the depth in that one look, and Andrew was content to let it wash over him. 

A part of him wanted to pull Neil in closer, to kiss him hard and fast and insistently, to share even a fraction of what this was doing to him - but instead he allowed himself to bask in the caress of his rabbit’s gaze for just that much longer. 

*****

It took them twenty minutes from the time they finally got out of the car to get up to their dorm, pack their things, and do a sweep of the room to make sure there was nothing for any nosy inspector to find. Not that any of them did drugs - but it probably wouldn’t have been great to find spare knives or evidence of Neil’s shady past lying around either. There were more private things, too, that Andrew just didn’t want anyone poking at if they felt they had the right to get into his stuff. Anything he wasn’t comfortable with a stranger seeing went into Neil’s safe, the kitchen was checked for an excess of alcohol (which was packed into Andrew’s backpack to bring with them to Columbia), and then they were on their way. 

It was a quiet drive into Columbia. Andrew allowed Neil to fuss with the radio and they ended up on an instrumental station that played as many neo-baroque interpretations as it did string quartet covers of rock songs with the occasional smattering of classical and early-romantic compositions. It was a good station. Andrew appreciated how they skipped the modernist and twentieth century composers altogether and kept to shit that actually sounded like music. There wasn’t even a single late-romantic “chromatic poetry” track for the entire drive. 

As he pulled them into the parking lot of Mama Eve’s, a small restaurant they liked a few miles away from the house, Andrew even reached over and held down one of the dash buttons to save the station as a preset favorite. 

He ignored Neil’s smirk.

Upon entering the restaurant they were immediately corralled by Mama Eve into a corner booth. A few minutes later they each had an overly-iced glass of water before them as well as a basket that was so overflowing with dinner rolls that two tumbled onto the affectionately stained tablecloth before it had even been fully set down. Neither of them were given a menu, but neither of them needed one anyway. Andrew had been coming here since he and Aaron first started living with Nicky and the menu never changed. He’d started taking Neil here over the summer and always ordered for both of them, which Neil never seemed to mind. 

Mama Eve was a very stocky, stern looking woman with limited English capabilities. What English she did speak was heavily accented in a way that always sounded angry, and Andrew found her fascinating. She wore two name tags, one that said “Mama” positioned over one that said “Eve”, even though she probably could have just had one that said “Mama Eve”. She had to be in her sixties by now and both of her arms were covered in bizarre tattoos she never seemed to care about keeping covered as she regularly wore short-sleeved and sleeveless dresses even in the winter. 

“New ice cream,” she informed them now, jabbing her entire forearm in the general direction of the kitchen. “Green.” Then she trundled off. Neil watched her go with a familiar look of wonder on his face. 

“Twenty bucks it’s pistachio,” Andrew offered lightly. 

Neil tilted his head in thought, then smirked. “I’ll take that bet. I think it’s mint. More common, would make more sense to add to a menu.”

“Exactly why she’d get pistachio,” Andrew pointed out. “Besides, she strikes me as the type of woman who would consider mint ice cream to be for the weak.”

After a moment of thought, Neil hummed and nodded his agreement with the assessment, but didn’t seem compelled to try and adjust his bet. Instead, he helped himself to a dinner roll and Andrew silently reviewed the menu items in his head as he decided what to get them. Something light, he decided, and when Mama Eve returned he put in an order for a couple of his favorite sandwiches (and a side of mac and cheese). 

Mama Eve brought their sandwiches by a short while later and after that Andrew put in an order for the “green” ice cream.

It was neither pistachio nor mint - it was green apple. Mama Eve had topped it with copious amounts of chocolate syrup and whipped cream, which was an interesting combination with green apple ice cream. Andrew consumed it with no regrets as Neil looked on in horror. Andrew managed to coax Neil into sampling a small bite of just the ice cream, since it was ice cream that was flavored after a fruit.

He was thusly informed that green apples did _not_ taste like that. 

Once they were finished they left Mama Eve a hefty tip and exited the restaurant. Andrew was feeling… light. It wasn’t something he was necessarily used to feeling, so he always tended to notice it whenever it happened. At first, the feeling was alarming and was almost always chased away as soon as he noticed it by a wave of frustration and resentment (that Bee, that bitch, informed him was likely rooted in fear). He was still suspicious of it, but if Neil could take a step away from the temptation to sink into his own obsessive anxiety and choose to accept something that would make him feel happy instead, then Andrew could allow himself to accept _this_ feeling as well. At least for today. 

It was odd, really. Andrew had lived in the house in Columbia for over a year before heading off to college, with frequent trips back on weekends and holiday breaks, but it hadn’t started to feel like a home until recently. Even now, he hesitated to call it _home_. It was a word that made him wary, a mirage of a concept that had always seemed just out of reach for as long as he could remember. Every time he’d thought that _maybe, this time would be the one_ he was proved disastrously wrong. Home was supposed to be something safe, and he’d never had that. Even once he’d started living with Nicky and Aaron and no longer had to worry about being directly _in danger_ , it still hadn’t had that mythic, settled feeling of “home” he’d always associated with the word. 

The house had just been that - a house, a place where he lived and slept and ate and put up with his ridiculous family - but he’d never been able to call it a home.

Today, watching as Neil unlocked the door with the slow reverence he always devoted to using his key to this house in particular, Andrew felt a swell of something in his chest he automatically thought of as _homecoming_. He wasn’t looking at the door, though. He didn’t look into the house. He barely registered the casual, comfortable mess in the living room or the tumbled of mismatched shoes that had been abandoned by the door for years. 

What he noticed was the way Neil’s shoulders relaxed, the way any residual tension absolutely melted off of him. He noticed the almost sleepy quality in the heavy-lidded set of his eyes and the slightest turn of his lips into a soft smile. He heard the quiet, pleased hum Neil made as he stepped into the house and dropped his bag by the couch. He felt the full-bodied embrace of his affection when Neil turned his attention onto him. 

Mindful of the alcohol carefully wrapped and stashed within, Andrew set his own bag down, then made sure the door was locked before stepping up to Neil. He reached up and gently grabbed his chin, firming up the grip when his rabbit leaned into it. 

“Yes or no, Neil?” 

“Yes.” The word whispered out on a quiet breath, and Andrew was more than happy to take it into himself as he brought Neil’s mouth down the last inch to his own. He started the kiss out soft, small, a greeting, but it was hard to keep anything between them small when Neil sighed into him like that, humming and smiling against his mouth. 

“Get your hands on me, Neil,” Andrew all but growled against those playful lips, and he felt Neil still in surprise. “I want you to touch me.” He pulled his lips away from Neil’s but only to go for his neck instead as he walked them toward the wall and pushed Neil firmly against it.

“Where?” Neil gasped, his whole body tight - and Andrew didn’t need to hear that particular note in his voice to know it was from need. His own body knew the song of Neil’s want like he was the sole composer - and he supposed, considering Neil, he sort of was. 

“Waist and above,” he consented between trailing kisses that lead from his rabbit’s shoulder all the way up to his ear, which he flicked his tongue over lightly, enjoying the shiver it sent through the other man’s body. “Under or over the shirt is fine.”

Neil didn’t waste any time at all, and then it was Andrew’s turn to suck in a sharp breath, momentarily distracted as warm, ghost-light fingers slipped under his shirt to trail over his stomach and up his chest, around to his back and up over his shoulders then down and around again. When Neil made a frustrated noise because his hands kept getting caught in the sleeves, impeding his apparent wish to run over his arms, Andrew leaned back and pulled off his shirt to grant him that access. It didn’t even occur to him to deny it. 

Then Neil’s hands were on him again, and his own lips were on Neil, savoring the enticing thump of his pulse against his tongue as he sucked a mark into his throat that he’d get to enjoy all damn weekend long. 

“ _Andrew,_ ” Neil sighed softly - and though Andrew had never been a religious man, the sound of those syllables on _that_ tongue was a near holy experience with the way his voice fluttered around them, and the only thing Andrew had done so far was kiss his neck. Strong fingertips squeezed at his shoulders, massaging and exploring, tugging a groan from a place so deep inside him only Neil had the ability to reach. 

Again, Neil dragged his hands down his arms and this time Andrew allowed himself a smirk as he nipped at his rabbit’s throat, now exposed to him at a more advantageous angle since Neil was oh-so-helpfully tilting his head in offering. 

“Fucking junkie,” he murmured against soft skin and Neil huffed slightly. Andrew couldn’t tell if it was in amusement or complaint, because before the sound even finished it deepened into a tight, quiet moan as Andrew palmed him firmly over his pants. 

“Y-you like it,” was Neil’s response, and something primal and very satisfied inside him downright _purred_ at the little stammer and the breathiness of the words. 

Andrew didn’t bother to respond. Instead, he dropped to his knees. He didn’t even open his mouth to ask the question - the second he met those blue blue blue blue eyes Neil was gasping _‘yes’_. Humming in satisfaction, Andrew then turned his attention to taking his Neil apart one gasp, sigh, and moaned _‘Andrew, oh fuck, yes, **Andrew!** ’_ at a time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading as always ^^ Any kudos and comments make me so frick frackin happy!
> 
> Next: Saturday at the house in Columbia.


	5. Saturday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Neil and Andrew spend the day at the house in Columbia. Feelings are involved.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is 90% fluff and 10% attempted angst? Basically, it's me leading up to Andrew's revelation in that last line of 'say something'. I enjoyed writing it SO FRICKEN MUCH and so I hope you enjoy reading it ^.^
> 
> Warnings for some soft porn at the end. It's not explicit but it's very feeling-y. 
> 
> And thank you thank you THANK YOU for everyone who has commented and followed this fic from the beginning and everyone who is stopping in to read it now that it's done. Your comments and kudos mean SO FRICKEN MUCH to me you have no idea. 
> 
> I do hang around on Tumblr, so feel free to pop over and say hello: [@kiirynilcc](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/kiirynilcc)
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

It was two fifty-three and _technically_ it was Saturday morning. Andrew had spent a reasonable amount of time indulging in the sounds he could draw out of Neil before standing on shaky feet and kissing the man breathless while he’d worked himself off between them. After a hot shower and a back massage courtesy of one very happy, grateful rabbit, they’d ended up collapsing on Andrew’s (their?) bed for an impromptu nap. 

This put a small bump in their original plans for Friday evening, which had consisted of an early-evening grocery run after double-checking what was already available in the house. Considering they were only ever up at the house on weekends, and not even _every_ weekend, they didn’t keep the house stocked with food other than some dry staples (and the snack cabinet - though that had to be refreshed frequently anyway). They’d already gotten dinner, so this wasn’t a big deal, but it was inconvenient when Andrew woke up in the middle of the night for a cigarette and snack to find… no snacks. 

Kevin, that bitch, had tossed them the last time they’d come up. The cabinets were empty other than some crackers and powder for some stupid fucking protein shake. 

“Mm… ‘Drew?”

Sleepy Neil wasn’t really a luxury that Andrew was treated to all that often. Neil had trained himself to wake fully when he was awake and to cling to alertness even when exhausted. Little by little he was beginning to be able to let his guard down - but wandering around a house in the middle of the night while only partially awake was a very new, very rare occurrence. 

He watched quietly as Neil shuffled into the kitchen, squinting even at the dimness afforded by the oven light and the small orange glow of the under-cabinet lights that Andrew had flicked on as he rummaged around for snacks. He covered his yawns with a hand that was swallowed up by an overly-long sleeve - some old shirt of Nicky’s or Kevin’s that had made it into Andrew’s laundry at the house and Neil had decided never to give back because he liked the feel of oversized clothes. 

Auburn hair stuck up in a charmingly disheveled mess and Andrew fought the impulse to run his fingers through it to try and set it to sorts. Neil needed a haircut. He’d have to send him off with Reynolds next week sometime, she’d see it done or just do it herself. 

“Kevin threw away all the snacks,” Andrew finally said. He kept his voice low, and was self-aware enough to know that it was as much because of his appreciation of his sleepy rabbit as much as it was the atmosphere of the late hour and his own fatigue.

Neil made a soft grumbling sound and wrinkled his nose. “Mm. Bitch.”

Andrew felt pleased at this response. He did not smile. 

“We also have no food. Or coffee. I was going to run to the store.”

Neil frowned and gave another yawn that was so large he used _both_ sleeve-covered hands, curling them against his mouth in loose fists that looked like paws through the thin fabric. “Mm… what store?” He blinked slowly and rubbed at his eyes, pulling himself more resolutely into consciousness. 

“The 24-hour Walmart.”

“Mm. I’ll get dressed.” 

“You can go back to sleep, you know,” Andrew said, causing Neil to pause as he turned to shuffle back out of the kitchen. At the look he gave him over his shoulder, Andrew rolled his eyes. “You’re clearly still tired. I can go to the store by myself just fine.”

Neil snorted and pointed at the clock. “Walmart at three in the morning. Either you’ll end up dead or someone else will and I’ll have to… come get you out of jail anyway.” He explained this around another yawn, then flashed him a sharp grin before turning and heading out of the kitchen before Andre could brook any other arguments. 

It wasn’t worth fighting about anyway. If Neil wanted to drag himself out of bed for a three-am run to the store, Andrew wasn’t going to stop him. Still, he didn’t bother suppressing a sigh at his stupid idiot as he moved to follow. 

Fifteen minutes later they were pulling away from the 24-hour McDonald’s drive-thru with coffee and heading down the street to the 24-hour Walmart. At least Columbia recognized that vampires walked among us and also required things such as crack coffee and groceries. There hadn’t even been the slightest hesitation when he’d ordered Neil’s with milk and his own with every sugary compound that they offered, plus whipped cream. 

If it were up to Andrew, he would only ever go grocery shopping in derelict 24-hour Walmarts between the hours of one and four in the morning. The store wasn’t empty, but the souls wandering from aisle to aisle had the feel of kindred spirits, afflicted by sleepless maina or of the kind who lived their whole lives in the twilights of the world. It was a glimpse into the realm of the otherwise unseen, and even midnight gypsies needed toilet paper and appreciated one-dollar loaves of french bread. 

He and Neil grabbed a cart because whenever they grabbed a basket they ended up needing to go back for a cart anyway, and as they turned down the cereal aisle Neil nudged him away from the cart to take control of it. Then his freshly caffeinated little rabbit flashed him a smirk and nodded to the cart with a suggestively raised eyebrow. It took Andrew a minute to realize what Neil was suggesting and when it clicked he raised _both_ eyebrows, impressed. Usually it would take Matt or Nicky to suggest something fun or juvenile. 

(Not because Neil was incapable, but because his life had been so seriously fucked up that the simple joys of being a dumbass had been beaten out of him far too young. It was actually one of Andrew’s theories as to why his dumbassery had been allowed to spin so out of control that he’d started baiting the fucking _mob_ , because he hadn’t been able to get it out of his system at all growing up and thus it had all been repressed and built up into something no one could have ever anticipated). 

Obligingly, Andrew climbed into the shopping cart. 

Incredibly pleased with himself, Neil pushed the cart, sometimes giving a bit of a running start before jumping onto the wheel-guard to roll along with him. Andrew sat in the cart with his back to the world, watching the curve of Neil’s lips rediscover innocence as they glided through the Walmart. 

If it were up to Andrew, he would only ever go grocery shopping in derelict 24-hour Walmarts between the hours of one and four in the morning - and he would only ever do it while sitting in a shopping cart while Neil steered them blithely through the aisle, his please little rabbit chuckling to himself as he stumbled and tripped each time he had to stop so they could actually grab items from their list or tilting his head in _just that way_ as Andrew Very Seriously decided between Lucky Charms and Captain Crunch Berries. And if Andrew could extend the aesthetic of that ghost-hour shopping trip into the rest of the day, he’d do it in a heartbeat.

They picked out some cereal (Captain Crunch Berries - Andrew had shaken the Lucky Charms box up front and decided there probably weren’t a satisfactory amount of marshmallows, and Neil hadn’t questioned him) and then made their way through the various dry goods to restock some staples they always kept at the house. 

When they reached the pasta Neil didn’t even hesitate to grab both cavatappi and rotini, knowing that Andrew preferred the rotini with marinara or meat sauce and the cavatappi with anything else or plain, because it was small and perfect to eat with his fingers or a fork. With a snort, Andrew also reached out and grabbed a box of regular spaghetti, because sometimes plain spaghetti was all Neil was able to manage (they’d discovered that saltines didn’t work for Neil the same way they did for Andrew, but plain spaghetti at room temperature was edible). 

Neil looked confused for a moment, then his expression softened into that stupid little smile and warm summersea eyes. 

Andrew rolled his own eyes and huffed, and Neil gave the cart another big push and rode it all the way down the aisle. 

They picked up a few other previously-discussed items for the meals they’d decided to prepare while they were at the house but really spent the most time in the snack aisle. With a wicked, vengeful gleam in his eyes, Neil began to pile one or two of almost _everything_ into the cart around Andrew. 

Amused, but not quite following, Andrew picked up a box of Hostess Snowballs and held it up. “Neil, you hate coconut.”

“Yup.” He tossed a box of chocolate Teddy Grahams onto the pile, followed by packages of three different brands of animal cookies (frosted, glazed, and your standard sweetened animal cracker).

“I also hate coconut.”

“Yup.” They’d reached the candy now and Andrew was beginning to wonder if he had somehow gotten stuck in third-grade-him’s favorite daydream, which included a giant tub filled with candy, a locked door, and a shotgun. 

“You also know how I feel about Almond Joys.”

Neil paused at that and looked into the cart, proving that he hadn’t actually been paying attention to what he’d been throwing into it. “Good point. Kevin knows how you feel about Almond Joys too.” He took the package of single-serving Almond Joys off the pile and put it back on the shelf. 

Aha. The lightbulb turned on as Andrew remembered Neil’s little payback scheme from their last solo Saturday up at the house. He wondered if this was going to become some sort of a tradition - not that he was complaining. 

“So you’re going to buy all of this junk just to piss off Kevin?”

“No.” Neil shrugged, then smirked. “I’m going to take a picture of you in the cart covered with all this junk. Then we can put back anything you don’t actually want. Extra brownies for giving Kevin the finger in the picture.”

….

“Neil?”

“Hm?”

“Did you mean ‘brownie points’ for giving Kevin the finger?”

Neil frowned, apparently so far lost in translation he didn’t understand what exactly Andrew was pointing out. “That’s literally just what I said.”

“Right.” Andrew sighed and shook his head. Idiot. Stupid, sweet little idiot. At least none of the others were here to witness this. They’d lose their goddamn simple little minds. “So you will buy me brownies if I let you take a picture and flip off the camera?”

Neil was still confused, because he was an idiot. “Andrew, I’ll buy you brownies anyway.”

Rolling his eyes, Andrew just gestured with his hands to _get on with it then_ , and he ignored the warmth in his chest he now had to begrudgingly accept as _affection_ as well as annoyance as Neil grinned broadly at him. The idiot tossed a few more selections into the cart until Andrew was well and truly buried, then he fussed with his phone for a minute before lifting it to take the picture. Andrew obligingly lifted both hands and extended his middle fingers. Then, because he knew it would really piss Kevin off to think that he was legitimately in on it instead of going along with one of Neil’s stupid ideas, he tilted his head back a bit and _smirked._

Satisfaction bloomed in his chest as Neil whispered, _’oh fuck yes’_ around a gleeful little cackle as he took the picture. When he handed the phone to him so he could see the picture, Andrew allowed the smirk to warm with genuine amusement for _just_ a moment. He sent himself the picture, because why the fuck not, then nodded his approval and handed it back to Neil. 

“Do you mind if I post it straight to the group chat?” Neil asked once he had it back, his eyes on the screen as he switched over to the messaging app, apparently so proud of himself that he wanted to send it off immediately. 

Andrew shrugged. “I do not care what you do, Josten.” He even sighed to put emphasis on his absolute lack of opinion. Andrew wasn’t a part of the group chat precisely because he didn’t give a shit what they talked about on it. If anything relevant came up or that Neil thought he’d find entertaining, Neil was there to tell him or pass it along without him having to suffer the inanities as well. 

He ignored the way Neil studied him for a moment, like he was making sure he wasn’t crossing over some boundary, in favor of picking through the ocean of heart disease he was currently basking in. As Neil sent off the picture, satisfied Andrew truly didn’t care, Andrew separated out the things he wanted from the rest and once Neil had slipped his phone back into his pocket he handed over the items one by one as they went back down the aisle to put away the shit they didn’t need. They were assholes, but they weren’t literal bags of dicks to just leave a pile of random crap lying around for some minimum wage third-shifter to put away for them. 

Andrew finally got out of the cart once they’d picked out Neil’s fresh fruit for the weekend and headed up to the checkout, electing to use the self-checkout rather than draw the attention of Dave, the very sad-looking vampire-esque clerk lingering at checkout lane five. Dave clearly had enough problems as he struggled with the complacency of his unlife, so Neil scanned and paid while Andrew sorted and bagged. 

It was still solidly pre-dawn by the time they got back to the house, but neither of them were tired seeing as their ‘nap’ had been almost eight solid hours anyway, if not more than that. They put the groceries away in a comfortable silence and when Neil made noises about going out for a run before the sun even _came up_ , Andrew was more than happy to distract him by pushing him against the counter and kissing him until both their knees were weak. Spurred into heading to the couch because of this, Andrew took the advantage to keep Neil beneath him _at least_ until the sun officially started to intrude.

*****

Neil ended up going for his run at sunrise, abandoning Andrew to go be an insufferable jock (at least it wasn’t fucking exy - and honestly, Andrew did rather appreciate what all that running did to Neil’s thighs…) For the first twenty minutes while he was gone, Andrew lazed about on the couch before finally rousing himself into some quietly domestic productivity. This wasn’t something he broadcasted, but he enjoyed the small, regular chores involved in keeping a house clean. 

He threw in a load of towels and cleaned the downstairs bathroom, tightened the screws on that one cabinet in the kitchen so it didn’t wobble anymore, and vacuumed the living room. Once that was done he meandered back into the kitchen to start up breakfast. They’d snacked a little in the intervening time between their trip to the store and Neil heading out to his run, but he knew Neil well enough to know that by the time he got back the junkie would be starving, having burned off any calories he may have gotten from said snacking. With that in mind, he dug out the waffle-maker, made sure it was still operational, and pulled down his preferred mix from the cabinet. 

By the time Neil was back he had the table set with breakfast. In addition to the fresh waffles (he’d added chocolate chips to his and topped them generously with syrup, but did a mix of the fresh strawberries and blueberries they’d picked up last night for Neil’s) he’d also quickly made up some breakfast potatoes with a couple of over-easy eggs on top. Looking at the spread, Andrew was pretty damn proud of himself. Fuck IHOP, he got this shit.

The pride flared and turned to something pleased and smug when Neil came in and paused in the doorway of the kitchen, those blue eyes of his going suddenly wide. He looked from the table to Andrew, then back to the table, then back to Andrew. When he was about to do the little song and dance again, Andrew rolled his eyes and let out an annoyed huff. 

“It’s called breakfast, Josten. Are you eating?”

Neil paused, then grinned at him and held up a finger for him to wait. He turned around and vanished back out the front door, but was back before Andrew could hypothesize where the fuck he was going to begin with. In his hand he held a ratty, awkward collection of long grass, wildflowers, and dandelions. They were mostly dandelions. 

Smirking, all proud of his stupid rabbit self, Neil practically bounced into the kitchen with his prize. He grabbed a glass from the cabinet and filled it with water, then dropped the grossly uncoordinated bouquet in it and set it in the middle of the table. 

Andrew just stared at it for a moment. Something on his face twitched. This was ridiculous. He looked at Neil. “You realize that dandelions are _weeds_ , don’t you Josten?”

Neil shrugged, completely unbothered by Andrew’s skepticism as he paused by the sink to wash his hands. “They’re pretty.” 

“Gonna start wearing flowers in your hair now, junkie?” Andrew asked, keeping his expression as empty of amusement or affection as possible, determined not to let Neil know anything about how he was feeling at the moment. Because here they were, about to sit down to breakfast together, and Neil put flowers on the table, and Neil was smiling at him _like that_ even as he fucked with him. 

Neil looked thoughtful as he turned back around and joined him at the table. He reached out and plucked one of the dandelions from the glass and tucked it behind his ear. Andrew froze with his fork halfway to his mouth and just _stared_. 

“Well?” Neil asked with a stupid grin on his stupid pretty face with the stupid yellow flower that matched his stupid blue eyes and made him think about how if summertime had been crafted into a living being, that being would be Neil in just that moment. What kind of fey shit was this?

“It looks really fucking stupid,” Andrew spat out with jarring venom, the emotion in his chest tangling violently on the way out of his mouth and reverting to the most familiar expression on hand. 

Neil’s face fell. It was only for a moment, then the idiot had slapped something impartial in its place - but for just a moment, he looked crestfallen, he looked _hurt_ , and it was Andrew’s fault and that made Andrew want to hit something. 

“Yeah, guess so,” Neil said mildly with a shrug, pulling the dandelion from his hair and dropping it back into the glass. 

“Sunflowers.” The word was out of his mouth before he could stop it, and he wasn’t sure whether it surprised himself or Neil more. Neil blinked at him, his expression opened by the shock and softened by the utter ridiculousness of the word he’d just heard. Andrew glared at Neil, then glared down at his plate. He shoved two huge bites of eggy potatoes into his mouth to buy himself time because _what the actual fuck was wrong with him!?_ It was too late to go back now, though, so when he finally swallowed he boldly met Neil’s eyes and said, “Dandelions are too fucking small. A sunflower would look better.”

It was as if, because he didn’t have access to a sunflower just then, he decided to wear the flower in metaphor instead. His head tilted and his lips curved gently like they were turning toward the sun, wearing its light in tribute. This idiot was just too fucking much. Andrew forced his gaze away and determinedly shoved forkfuls of waffle into his mouth. He didn’t even taste it. 

The next time he looked up, Neil had picked up his phone and was typing something into it. A moment later, he turned it around and held it up near his ear where the dandelion had been - it was a picture of a sunflower. 

Neil was smiling at him. “Better?”

Andrew swallowed. Why was his throat suddenly dry? It wasn’t even a real fucking flower. But Neil’s smile looked like it tasted of summertime and dreamsicles and, absurdly, Andrew was wondering where the nearest place was he could find a sunflower. What the actual fuck? He must be going insane. He needed to talk to Bee about this. Incapable of saying anything, Andrew just gave a sharp nod and turned back to his breakfast. At least he could trust waffles not to wear stupid flowers in their stupid hair and be stupid. 

Neil hummed, all pleased with himself, and set the phone down to dig into his own breakfast. Still feeling off-kilter from _Situation Sunflower_ , Andrew pointedly ignored the warm, satisfied feeling that fluffed out between his ribs as Neil enjoyed the food he’d made him. It wasn’t unlike the feeling he got whenever he saw Neil wearing something he’d bought him, particularly when he looked both _good_ and _comfortable_ , and it was just too much right now. 

The meal passed comfortably. Neil chatted lightly about his run and the Foxes, and once Andrew felt closer to equilibrium he weighed in on the topics of shows to watch and Neil’s abysmal attempt at an essay he had due on Thursday next week. Andrew had proofread it for him and it wasn’t pretty. 

Privately, quietly, and in the very back of his mind, Andrew acknowledged that he’d like to spend every morning just like this one. Sunflower smiles and all.

*****

Andrew’s lazy Saturday was interrupted, predictably, by Fox drama. 

He didn’t know exactly what was said on the phone call, but he wasn’t so stupid he couldn’t guess the general context - especially with the sunny little threat of scandal they’d left behind in Palmetto. He was able to guess well enough that something had happened regarding that bit of excitement because Neil’s phone started blowing up a little bit before lunchtime with texts. He had to watch as Neil’s posture got tighter and tighter, as his knuckles popped and his jaw tensed and his nails started to scrape across his throat between each round of texts.

But Neil didn’t reach out to him, didn’t complain or show him what the texts said, didn’t so much as look over at him - so Andrew… well, he didn’t let it _go_ , but he did let it _be_ \- at least for the moment. 

Then Neil’s phone rang and Neil’s voice when he answered was already rough in his bi-syllable greeting of “Tell me.” Andrew didn’t hear any more after that, because Neil pushed off the couch and headed out to the porch. Andrew watched him go, then turned his gaze back to the tv. He was annoyed that the Foxes were causing drama on _their_ Saturday, pulling Neil away from the rest and relaxation they’d both been desperately needing all fucking week - but he knew that there was no use bitching about it. If he thought he could get away with it he’d just snag Neil’s phone and turn it off for the day, but with the potential for trouble and Neil embracing his role as vice captain he knew that would only serve to piss Neil off and probably stress him out even more. Better that he deals with the idiots in real time then stress about what might or might not be going on in his absence. 

So Andrew sighed and grumbled privately to himself, but otherwise was resigned to putting up with it. He even discarded the fanciful notion of going outside to distract Neil away from the call and put on a movie instead. 

That being said, the instant he heard the sound of thumps and crashes from the deck he was on his feet and _moving_. Those weren’t the sounds of a phone call. He wasn’t wearing his armbands so he grabbed the first knife available from the knife-block on the kitchen counter on his way out to the deck.

It took him a moment to fully process the scene he was faced with the second he stepped out onto the porch. His body stilled, his feet momentarily glued to the worn wood beneath them, as he took in the sight of Neil absolutely _whaling_ on the side of the house. He kicked, punched, and shouldered against the siding, and Andrew had no illusions that it was the house he was trying to inflict damage upon. After all, he’d seen this before, hadn’t he? Neil’s aggressive energy, turned inward until it overflowed and pushed him to attack himself physically. This time he just didn’t have access to an exy court. 

Andrew took a quick look around to make sure that there really was no attacker, then he stabbed the knife into the wooden railing so it stuck there and slowly approached Neil. He ignored the cold rage in the pit of his stomach.

“Neil.”

At least the idiot wasn’t in too deep because he reacted instantly to the sound of his name, and Andrew was more relieved than he was willing to admit to see that those blue eyes were clear and alert. Enraged, hurting, yes - but he was at least fully present. 

Neil bared his teeth and gestured angrily at himself. He hoped his mouth, then shut it, his throat working, his fingers curling into claws as he wrapped them around his own throat. “Fine,” he hissed out, and it was such a physical effort for him to say that _one word_ \- and why the fuck did it have to be _that_ word. Andrew wanted to drop kick it right out of Neil’s vocabulary, but he didn’t think his idiot would appreciate the missing teeth.

Andrew’s jaw tightened and before the storm brewing in his lungs could burst out past his lips Neil shook his head sharply and continued in sign language. 

“Yesterday, I was fine. I was okay. I could sit there, and listen, and know shit was happening, and I was stressed but it didn’t crash in. Didn’t do… this! I _handled_ it!” His gestures got sharper, larger with his emphasis. “Last night was _good._ Today! Today was _good_ \- and look at me. I don’t understand. Why? Why now? Why this time?”

Neil made a tight sound, something between a snarl and a scream, and turned to throw another punch at the siding, but Andrew took two steps and put himself in the way. He didn’t care if Neil ended up hitting him - it would be softer on his fist than the wall and he was less likely to break a finger or damage his wrist. Neil pulled his punch and stumbled back, glowering at him. 

“No,” Andrew said calmly. He kept his voice steady, quiet even, but he didn’t try to iron out all emotion. He wouldn’t hide that seeing Neil like this affected him, but he wasn’t going to push his feelings into center stage either. “Do not hurt yourself. Just because there isn’t an exy court nearby doesn’t mean you can get creative about it either.”

Neil’s hands lifted in protest, his scowl sharp and his eyes bitter as a winter squall, but Andrew held up both hands and held that glacial gaze steadily with his own. “Neil. Wait here. Just, wait. Give me a minute without you throwing yourself at the wall.”

That feral snarl was no less vicious in its silence, but Neil gave him a slow nod. Trusting that he’d hold to the acquiescence, Andrew dropped his hands and moved out of the way, then he turned and headed back into the house. It didn’t take him long to get what he needed and when he stepped back out onto the porch he was carrying most of their glassware stacked in two columns on top of every plate they owned. 

Neil blinked at him, then frowned in confusion, because he was a fucking idiot. 

“Come on,” Andrew grunted. He was more than capable of carrying the weight, but it was somewhat awkward to balance and he didn’t need the glasses falling and breaking prematurely. 

With Neil in tow, Andrew led the way down the steps and toward the small gathering of trees at the back of the yard. He crouched down and set his pile on the grass, then grabbed the tarp off the fire pit and spread it along the front of the trees. Once that was situated, he picked up one of the small plates, held it up for Neil to see, then threw it with all his might at the nearest tree. It shattered in a satisfying explosion of blue and white ceramic, most of the pieces landing on the tarp. 

The next plate he handed to Neil. He watched as Neil accepted it and then just looked at it for a long time. He didn’t push, just waited patiently as Neil processed this alternative option - as he made the decision on his own to accept Andrew’s solution. Andrew understood the need to be destructive. He understood the impulse to turn that destructive aggression on _yourself_ as well, though he’d had different methods. 

When Neil finally tightened his grip on the plate and turned toward the tree, Andrew leaned down and selected one of the glasses for himself. This was for Neil, and he’d let him have the majority of the ammo, but fuck if he didn’t feel like breaking shit right now too. He resonated with Neil’s frustration, he understood it all too well. That’s what fucking sucked about trauma, about the scars it left on your mind. Some triggers would be predictable, and then there were times where everything seemed _fine_ and even _good_ and you felt steady and real and fucking _okay_ and then something small would happen - something that maybe had never even set you off before and never would again after the face and suddenly you were fucked. Trauma could take a summer breeze and turn it into a fucking hurricane and all you could do was fucking ride it out and that _sucked_.

So Andrew grabbed up a glass, then a plate, and let the shattered pieces of his frustration mingle with Neil’s where they landed on the ground.

By the time the last plate was in desolate shards scattered across the tarp like broken stars, the tension in Neil’s shoulders had reduced considerably and Andrew felt a small bloom of satisfaction open up in his chest. 

He looked over at the other man as he took a few deep breaths and ran shaky fingers through his thick reddish hair, gripping it as he held it back from his face. When Neil looked over at him and met his gaze, Andrew watched him carefully and permitted himself some relief when the striker smiled. It was tremulous at best, but it was genuine. 

“Sorry,” Neil signed with a small sigh, his hands releasing his hair to be able to talk. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me. Now your dishes are broken.”

Andrew shrugged. “We can get new ones,” he reminded the idiot, signing along with speaking aloud. 

“I… broke my phone too.” Neil looked off to the side and his expression was almost sheepish. 

Andrew actually felt kind of impressed, and he let that show, raising both eyebrows high. “We can get you a new one. What set you off?”

Neil let out a gusty sigh and shook his head. “I don’t even know.” Then he stopped himself and shook his head again, lifting his gaze to meet Andrew’s. “That isn’t true. I was talking to Rowan, he was worried about Hayley, and in the background I heard Jack…” Neil spelled out each of the names, but they were getting so quick with fingerspelling now that he barely had to slow down for it.

Something bright and angry struck and expanded in his chest like the time-lapse of a nuclear explosion, the mushroom cloud of hate catching chokingly in his throat. Neil saw the violence in his eyes and didn’t flinch away. He didn’t even bring up his guard. No, met with the vision of the demon in his skin, Neil _stepped closer_. He lifted one hand to cradle the air an inch away from his cheek and Andrew didn’t even have to hesitate before he closed the distance to lean against his palm. The way that single, simple fucking _touch_ of all things could smooth out the edges of his temper blew his fucking mind. The anger was still there, wretched and vengeful and thirsty for blood - but it was contained, leashed by those long fingers and a calloused palm. 

“What did he say, Neil?” Andrew asked after a moment. His protective rage left a residue in his voice that rumbled out along with the words. 

Neil held his gaze for a moment, then closed his eyes - hiding that blue as he signed slowly with his free hand. 

“W-e-s-n-i-n-s-k-i.”

Andrew _growled_. It was the only real description applicable to the sound, because it wasn’t quite a human one and he didn’t fucking care. Fuck humanity. It was humans who were the real monsters out there anyway. “I can kill him.” 

Neil opened his eyes on a small sigh, the tiniest of smiles pulling at the edge of his lips as his thumb traced the crest of Andrew’s cheek. Then he opened his mouth and smoothly murmured an absurd word that knocked Andrew’s rage back several notches. “Romantic.”

The look on his face must have been interesting, because Neil’s smile grew, and then he was chuckling - and then he was _laughing_ and Andrew’s murderous rage had to be boxed away and saved for later because there was no place for it here in the caress of that autumn-sweet sound. Neil’s laugh was the tumble of fallen leaves, bright red and gold in their determination not to go out without a fight. It was a song of fire and a hush of infinity - it was forever contained in a fleeting gasp. 

Neil’s laugh was the sound of life itself - it was the knowledge of hurt and pain and awful things fueling an angry, brilliant, desperate will to live. It was a sharp sound, it was a full sound. It was somehow both hard and mirthful at the same time and it was fucking _beautiful_ because somewhere in all that tangle of _knowing_ and _truth_ was the sigh of something lighter and deliriously, deliciously, demonstratively _free_. 

“Andrew.” Neil made his name sound beautiful and Andrew didn’t think he’d ever get used to that realization. He didn’t speak, but rather signed his request, head tilted slightly to the side and a smile Andrew was now willing to admit was affection on his lips. “Can I kiss you?”

Andrew blinked, then reached for Neil and cupped his cheek in a mirror of how Neil was still touching him. His thumb caressed cruel scars and Neil didn’t flinch. Andrew touched his scars, _his scars_ , and Neil didn’t flinch. 

There wasn’t enough space in his body for this. 

Whether Neil pulled him in or the other way around, Andrew wasn’t sure and didn’t really care. All that mattered in that next instant was the taste of Neil, the warmth of him, the hum of his contentment and his pleasure as it traveled from his lips down through the rest of his body like an electric charge. Andrew kissed him like he could breathe him in and bottle up his light to keep safe and warm inside his own chest, protected from every cold galeforce wind that dared to threaten him again. 

They were both panting softly when the kiss broke, and Andrew didn’t bother pulling away as he murmured his own request against his partner’s lips. “I want to hold you.”

He felt Neil’s breath catch, he felt the smile, he felt the shiver and the tremble of emotions as they jumped from Andrew to Neil and back again like twin lightning rods sharing strikes. Neil sighed out his ‘ _yes_ ’ and Andrew slid the hand cupping his cheek back to cradle the back of his head, the other reaching so that he could wrap his partner in a tight embrace and pull him close. Neil’s arms went around his shoulders, his face burying in the crook of his neck, holding him back just as fiercely. 

They stood that way until their heartbeats calmed to a steady, rocking synchrony and their muscles naturally relaxed around each other. Neil hummed against his neck and Andrew could feel the smile there. He nuzzled against his partner’s hair and kissed his ear, just because it was there and he could. Somehow even after the utter chaos of the phone call and Neil’s anxiety attack, things had shifted back toward peace, and Andrew found that he was able accept it without reservation. 

That realization was wild enough that Andrew took a deep breath and pulled back. He didn’t let go of Neil, but he put a little bit of space between them and Neil didn’t resist it. Neil was still smiling, more at ease than he’d been since before he’d started getting hounded by texts. 

“Sorry we killed your plates,” the idiot said. His voice was quieter than usual, more of a murmur that had just emerged from a whisper, but it wasn’t strained. 

Andrew rolled his eyes. “I was the one who handed them to you, idiot.”

“And my phone…” Neil gave a grimace, glancing back toward the porch, and Andrew followed his gaze. He wondered what had actually happened to the phone. He hadn’t seen it at all when he’d come out. 

“Neil,” Andrew said, lifting a hand to turn his partner’s face back toward him. “Things can be replaced.” 

_You’re the only you I get,_ he didn’t say. _You’re the only you that **you** get._

Instead, he just gave a shrug and brought Neil’s head down so their foreheads touched. “We will get you a new phone. We will pick out new dishes.”

Neil was quiet for a moment, watching him, reading beyond the words to things that Andrew was only half-aware he was also saying with the statement. 

This time Neil kept his voice a secret as his fingers asked with a gesture, “We?”

Andrew sighed and leaned back to make room so that he could flick his idiot little rabbit on the forehead. “Yes.”

A crease appeared between Neil’s brows and his nose crinkled at the assault, making Andrew snort in amusement because now he even _looked_ like a rabbit. It lasted only a moment though, then his expression relaxed and Neil nodded with a small sigh. 

“Okay,” he said aloud, the hint of a smile teasing at the corner of his mouth again. 

Andrew wondered when it had happened, that Neil started giving genuine smiles so frequently like this - even in the wake of near-disaster. Before he could get sucked into that particular rabbit-hole, Andrew rolled his eyes and pushed Neil away with two fingers to his forehead. 

“Come on, you get one side of the tarp. We’ll empty it in the bin.” The last thing he needed was for the neighborhood strays to hurt themselves on it or for territorial squirrels to discover the shards and decide to use them as a way to off their enemies. Tree rats were vicious like that. 

*****

After disposing of the broken shards so they didn’t become convenient murder props for homicidal squirrels, Andrew and Neil had returned to the house for a quiet lunch. Neil’s phone had ended up being a casualty of plastic-meets-wall-meets-floor-meets-shoe(repeatedly) and was beyond saving. These things happen. 

Plus side, there were no more text messages or phone calls to pester Neil or break his newly restored mood. Andrew had begrudgingly sent a text off to Dan to let her know that Neil’s phone was broken and they would be getting a new one today, and to let Rowan know that Neil would call him in the morning. Then he (also begrudgingly) showed Neil her responding message which wanted Andrew to let him know that she was already handling whatever the “Hayley situation” was. 

Then it was off to the store. They needed to pick up a new phone for Neil and if they didn’t want to try and eat chicken and dumplings (crock pots, who knew?) off of paper napkins they were going to need to replace the dishes as well. Instead of taking them right back to Walmart, he pulled into the mall - where there was a large Crate & Barrel attached as one of the main department stores. Neil did not seem at all surprised by this decision, and nor should he be, considering he’d been on plenty of Andrew’s wandering trips through every home goods store between here and Palmetto. 

Well, except Bed, Bath, and Beyond. Fuck the triple-B. He’d grace them with his attention when they learned how to give more than three inches between fixtures. There was absolutely no browsing value in that claustrophobia-inducing hellhole. 

They took their time browsing in the Crate & Barrel, which was designed superbly for such an activity, before ever making their way over to the dinnerware. Sometimes they were quiet, and sometimes they talked, their conversation jumping between ASL, German, and a hybrid of the two that Neil seemed to be favoring where he would sign until he came to a word he didn’t immediately recall in ASL and then he’d just throw it out in German. The more they talked, the more the pattern reversed until he was primarily speaking German, his hands moving along as he spoke, forming associated signs here and there. 

“I have a question,” he said in German, simultaneously bringing his hands up and angled inward to tap at his upper chest to say ‘have’. 

Andrew raised a brow at him then just jerked his head up in a nod. Neil was wearing a cheeky smile that made him glad it was unlikely anyone who overheard them would actually understand what was being said. 

“Exactly how often do you call me rabbit in your head that it was the first thing you went to?” Again, he stuck mostly to German here, his hands almost absently moving to throw out the same double-handed sign for ‘rabbit’ that Andrew had used for him. Andrew wasn’t sure if the signing at this point was starting to become a habit when they were together, or if he was actively trying to practice while speaking a language other than English, but he refused to find it endearing. 

“Enough,” Andrew responded with a shrug. “It shouldn’t surprise you.”

“I thought you’d said I’d _stopped_ being a rabbit that night.” There was a genuine question in Neil’s tone and when Andrew looked over at him his eyes were curious, expression open. 

Andrew took a moment to consider his answer. As he did, Neil continued to meander through the furniture before flopping down on an oversized couch that was a truly offensive shade of orange. He leveled his gaze on his idiot in judgement, and Neil grinned in response. 

“The context changed, but the name still fit,” he finally said with a roll of his eyes, moving to check out a sleek entertainment center in dark espresso so he wouldn’t be submitted to that garish couch. He opened the cabinets and appraised the shelf space. 

“How did it change?”

“First you were a rabbit because you were running away. Not that it was ever really fitting. Rabbits don’t really _antagonize_ the wolves on their way out.” Andrew snorted. Yeah, no, Neil was more like the homicidal squirrel’s in their backyard, chattering obnoxiously and pelting bigger animals with bits of bark and sticks before scurrying up to higher boughs to cackle about it. 

He looked back over at the rabbit in question in time to see him shrug, still lounging on that hideous couch. 

“So why stick with ‘rabbit’ at all?”

Andrew sighed and continued to inspect the entertainment center, crouching down to look at the lower shelves. “Because you were still running, still hiding. At some point ‘stupid rabbit’ became ‘my rabbit’ and it was done. Besides, you like to run and the Foxes all seem to think you’re some innocent woodland creature anyway so it was fitting enough to keep. I do not have the time or the care to come up with another nickname. You already have three.”

“Three?”

Andrew held up a hand to count them off without looking over at him. He said them in English because the German equivalent of ‘junkie’ just didn’t ring right. “Rabbit, junkie, idiot.”

“Hey! Idiot shouldn’t count as a nickname,” Neil protested, also switching to English. Funny that he didn’t protest ‘junkie’ though. Probably because he knew it was true. 

“Why not? It’s accurate.”

“I know it is.” Neil never had been one to deny that he wasn’t the brightest bulb, especially when it came to his mouth and the enormous amount of evidence against his choices regarding how to use his already limited intellect. “Still shouldn’t count as a nickname.”

Andrew raised a brow and stood, looking over at him. Why was he not surprised to see Neil _smirking_ of all things. Combative, instagatory little shit - that’s what he was. 

“Too bad, _rabbit_. It counts.” Andrew knew Neil’s face too well not to notice the slight flush as he said the nickname aloud. He realized then that he didn’t actually call him ‘rabbit’ to his face, not since the few times he’d used it mockingly. He was still mocking him now, though there was an undercurrent of affection there that neither of them could ignore anymore. 

“I guess this means I’ll just have to come up with my own nickname for you, then,” Neil said too-casually as he stood up from that eyesore of a couch and made his way over to instead look at a living room set of armchairs with a matching loveseat. 

Andrew snorted. “No, it does not. You already call me Drew sometimes.”

“I’m thinking… _honey._ ” Oh that sassy little fucker.

“ _No._ ” Andrew glared viciously. “We do not do words like ‘honey’. How is that even in your vocabulary? You don’t even _like_ sweet things.”

“I like you.” 

Andrew almost choked. “I am not sweet.”

Neil, that fucking bastard, just _smirked_ at him. “It would work as a reference to your eyes, too.”

“I am going to kill you.”

Utterly unbothered, Neil hummed in through and continued to peruse, leaving the living room section to work through the dining room setups. “I don’t like ‘dear’.” He wrinkled his nose. “Babe or baby just seem weird to say.”

“Weirder than _honey?_ Josten, you are out of your mind.” Andrew was aware that he was grumbling. He was aware that to the right set of observational skills, he was probably getting pretty close to _pouting_ , but he didn’t care. This was weird, and it gave him odd lightness in his chest that almost felt like being high. He felt halfway displaced from reality.

Neil shrugged, unconcerned by Andrew’s incredibly sound assessment of his mental health. In fact, he seemed to be enjoying himself a bit _too_ much as he started offering up various nicknames and endearments in different languages. 

“I have a name. It’s Andrew. Sometimes you call me Drew. If you need to call me something else, everyone else has already coined ‘monster’ so I don’t see why--”

“No.” Neil’s voice was no longer amused. His gaze was hard, now, too, when Andrew looked over at him. Winter itself was contained in that unforgiving blue.

He’d mostly been joking, because he knew Neil didn’t like it when the Foxes called him ‘monster’, but he was also frustrated and irritated because he didn’t get why it was affecting him this way to think of Neil calling him some sort of special nickname. He should be annoyed and instead he felt almost… flustered. It was uncomfortable and he didn’t like it. 

“Why not? It isn’t like ‘rabbit’ and ‘junkie’ can really be considered, what? Endearments?”

“You know why. I hate that they call you that. You aren’t a monster. And coming from you, yeah - ‘rabbit’ and ‘junkie’ are basically that.” His eyes thawed and he smirked. “You say them and think them because you like me. I like you. So I’m going to figure out something to call you. Even if it’s just in my head, or if it’s just us.”

Andrew snorted. “You like the Foxes. You don’t have nicknames for them.”

“You’re special.” He said it so casually, and even though Andrew knew that it was true - both ways, it was true - it was still almost jarring to hear aloud. He and Neil spent so much of their relationship leaning on silent understandings that even when these known truths were verbalized it was enough to make him feel like his mind had missed a step on its climb to understanding. A stumble, a stutter, then he caught himself and found steadiness again as Neil met his eyes. 

Switching to ASL, Neil stepped away from the dinnerware he’d been absently looking through and moved closer to him. “I won’t if you don’t want me to,” he signed slowly. “And I wouldn’t say anything in front of the others.”

Andrew frowned at him, also switching languages. “I’m not embarrassed by you.” That isn’t what he wanted Neil to take away from this. He didn’t want Neil to think that he was embarrassed or ashamed that Neil cared about him. It was just… odd to accept.

Neil blinked in surprise, then softened. It wasn’t even just his expression, either. The curves of his hands and the set of his shoulders, the tilt of his head and the angle of his body all rounded slightly and became a little bit more open, a little bit more war - _softer_ \- as he stepped closer to Andrew again. As he spoke, he kept his hands in the space between them, effectively whispering in ASL. “I know you aren’t. But it isn’t their business, what’s between us. And I don’t want to make you feel uncomfortable in front of them.”

Neil’s hands paused so that he could catch his eye, and Andrew read too much understanding in them. Because Neil knew that he was a source of vulnerability for Andrew, and that Andrew didn’t trust the Foxes enough to expose himself in that way. At least, not casually, not without reason. Neil was telling him he wasn’t trying to threaten that.

Andrew sighed, reaching up to tug on Neil’s hair. “You need a haircut,” he said out loud. “And call me whatever you want, whenever you want. Just know that you get to deal with Nicky and those stupid Foxes if they have shit to say about it.”

That softness brightened to a grin and his stupid little rabbit nodded. That smile was warming the air in his lungs so rapidly that Andrew had to push it away, his hand gentle as he pressed it to Neil’s face to make him look at the plates. “Whatever junkie. Pick out some plates you like and let’s go. We need to add the dumplings to the crockpot in the last hour of cooking.”

*****

They ended up settling on a dinnerware set in mottled earth tones and a semi-matching set of glassware that were tinted amber. Neil had been exactly zero help, because he didn’t understand the concept of _aesthetic_ and would have just gotten the cheapest set. Andrew, determined to make him participate in the selection for reasons he would not get into - with Neil nor himself - at this juncture, had selected three he liked, hidden the prices, and made Neil choose between those. 

Ultimately, Andrew was pleased with the result, if not a bit exasperated. On their way up toward the register, he spotted a simple blue glass flower vase and allowed his impulse to override rational thought. Neil tilted his head when he grabbed it, but was wise enough not to comment. 

Due to Andrew’s forethought of a decent protection plan, they were able to replace Neil’s phone on the spot, and Andrew allowed Neil the drive home to fuck around with it and read up on any irrelevant updates. Once they got back to the house, however, he snagged the phone and powered it off, then used a chair to climb up and put it on top of the fridge. 

“If it’s really important, they know they can reach you through me. Tomorrow you will have no choice but to put up with it.” 

Neil glared at him, but he didn’t make too much of a fuss, which was telling all on its own that Neil didn’t want to deal with it today and Andrew didn’t blame him. Idiot. They gave themselves one Saturday a month away from the rest of the Foxes and whatever drama was brewing - and today had been a shittier week than most, of course Neil was at the end of his fucking rope. The one day he was supposed to _not_ have to worry about shit, the little fuckers ended up bothering him anyway. He’d let his guard down only to have the front gate kicked in. It was a dick move. 

After only a little bit of fidgeting and tense glances up to the top of the fridge, Neil finally seemed able to push away any residual worries about whatever drama was going on back in Palmetto. Andrew added Bisquik-made drop dumplings to the crockpot and they retreated to the living room where he was then able to extract payback for the teasing he’d had to endure while out shopping. 

For every time Neil had suggested a ridiculous nickname or term of endearment, Andrew brought him right up to the edge with his mouth or his hand or the rub of their bodies only to back away at the last second. Oh and by now? By now, Andrew knew how to make Neil _sing_. They were alone in the house, in the one place in the world where they could be guaranteed privacy, and Andrew wasn’t going to waste it. Not when he had Neil so willing and pliant beneath him, sighing _’yes Andrew **yes** ’_ with every line of that strong, sinewy body and the soft rasps of his voice. Not when he had the taste of Neil’s smile still lingering on his mouth even with the heady flavor of his pleasure now flooding his tongue as well. Not when there was the weight and the thrill that came with his partner’s want of him, need of him, _joy_ of him filling him up like the swell of the ocean itself. 

Andrew didn’t hold back. He devoted himself to drawing out every drop of Neil’s pleasure and got himself drunk on it. Everything outside of the two of them ceased to exist. But that was how it always was when he was touching Neil. Neil was an entire universe unto himself and Andrew felt like an honored wanderer to have been granted such an extraordinary gift in his exclusive permission to explore it. 

By the time he finally allowed Neil release, his needy little rabbit was completely flushed and panting his name in pleading little whimpers that went straight to his cock. He brought him with his hand only barely, and a part of him wondered if it was his touch at all that had pushed him over the edge or if it was the touch of his lips to his rabbit’s ear, quietly murmuring, _come for me, Neil, come for me’_ that had his partner shuddering so hard in his grasp as he came that he forgot to breathe until Andrew nipped him admonishingly on the throat. It was something he was _definitely_ going to experiment with later.

He didn’t last much longer after that, not with Neil’s lips on his neck and his breath so hot against his ear as he worked himself off in a handful of quick jerks. 

Neil’s lips had made it up to his ear and his voice was soft and rough in the way it always got just after he’d come. “Andrew,” he murmured softly over and over in-between soft hums of his euphoria-induced contentment. “Mm, my Andrew… _Andrew…_ ” Andrew shivered and actively fought the urge not to collapse fully on top of Neil, burrow in deep, and never emerge. There was this compulsion that had worked it’s way directly into his motor funcitons that had him wanting to make a nest, safe and warm in the center of Neil’s chest - like this stupid rabbit only a few inches taller and a fuck of a lot scrawnier than he was could protect him from the whole of the world. Fuck, he wanted to _stay_.

In the end, that was what had him finally pushing off of Neil and half-stumbling to his feet. He didn’t look at the other man as he made his way to the bathroom to come down from the high alone, to clear his head as he washed off. He still felt weirdly raw when he was done, in a way that was almost directly opposite to how he was used to feeling after things with Neil got more intense than he was prepared for. Instead of feeling outside of his skin, anxious and slick with the oil of his past, he felt a hot magnetism humming in his bones that made him want to wrap himself in Neil and around him. It wasn’t a sexual pull, but something just as… no, _more_ intimate than that, and it didn’t go away by the time he stepped out of the bathroom. 

Neil had straightened up the couch and was still looking semi-dazed himself when he passed through the living room. When their eyes met, Neil smiled, that blue a backdrop to raw starlight, and Andrew saw no judgement there. He was just… happy. Happy to see him, happy to be around him, happy with what they had just done and happy for anything else they might or might not do. Happy, with him. Like that was just a simple, easy thing to be. 

He had to look away, and he pretended not to hear Neil humming as he headed into the bathroom to clean up himself.

Andrew checked on dinner while Neil was showering, turning the slow cooker to warm so it wouldn’t start to burn, then went out to the porch for a cigarette only to discover that he was almost out. 

He wavered for only a moment before deciding to run out for more, leaving a very clearly written note for Neil that he was just running to get smokes and would be right back. He and Neil actively tried not to set off the other’s paranoia, and neither of them reacted well to the other being suddenly missing. After a week like this, Andrew normally would have delayed or knocked on the bathroom door to let Neil know that he was heading out - but he still needed a little bit of distance. 

It wasn’t what he wanted, but for the moment - until he could let himself accept this - it was what he needed. 

So he left the note, he got into the Maserati, and instead of going to the corner store the next block over he drove to the small uptown area and went to the tobacco shop. He could get his brand of cigarettes just about anywhere, at any convenience store or gas station, but the extra few minutes gave him the time he needed. 

Andrew didn’t spend the extra time thinking. He didn’t hyper-analyze what he was feeling. He didn’t try to tell himself that he wasn’t feeling _at all_ , either. Instead, he just drove, then he walked the short distance from the parking spot he was able to grab in front of the flower shop to the tobacco shop. Once inside, he went to the counter and requested his usual brand. Throughout it all, he just allowed himself to feel without combating it, just to see what would happen. 

A consistent, steady thrum pulsed gently in his blood for the entire trip, nudging him and tugging him almost gently. It felt like the way Neil’s eyes looked when they caught him and _stared_ in just _that way_. It was a feeling that didn’t turn on itself when left to its own devices. It only settled a bit more comfortably under his skin in the semblance of Neil’s actual nearness. It hummed in approval when, on his way back to the car, he made a minor detour. 

*****

Neil was out of the shower by the time Andrew returned, though he hadn’t been gone very long. Andrew walked into the house and could hear the soft shuffle in the kitchen as his partner moved around, the sound of the sink as he rinsed the new plates so they could use them for dinner. 

After locking the door and kicking off his shoes, Andrew headed into the kitchen to join him. On the table, Neil had replaced the glass of dandelions with the vase - though because the vase was a little bigger and the dandelions and various grasses small and uncoordinated, it mostly looked like weeds floating in water. Any awkward and self-conscious second guesses he may have been attempting to ignore on the way back dimmed at the sight, at the clear show of care that Neil had even haphazardly made to combine their efforts. 

Neil turned around as if he could sense him hovering, and smiled at the sight of him. Then his eyes widened as he noticed what Andrew was holding. 

“I told you,” Andrew said - and he was impressed with himself at how casual he was able to affect his town, “sunflowers would be better.” He held up the bouquet, which the florist had put together at his direction with wide, utterly disbelieving eyes when he’d marched in with his demands. It was mostly sunflowers, with sprigs of smaller white flowers and a few decorative grasses. Andrew had been very specific with exactly what size and color he wanted the components to be, even if he hadn’t known the proper names except for the sunflowers themselves. 

Neil blinked at him, and then he _grinned_ , and Andrew forgot how to breathe. When Neil stepped forward and took the flowers, Andrew tugged him closer because he had to taste that smile for himself.

It tasted like the stars, the sun, the summer wind. It tasted like honey, sweet and rich. It tasted like peace, like warmth, like forever in a single sigh even though it only lasted for a moment. Andrew savored that moment, and when it ended he stole just one more. Neil was still smiling when he pulled away and turned to unwrap the flowers and put them in the vase. 

“You’re right,” he said once he had them situated, stepping back with the limp remnants of this morning’s roadside bouquet clutched in his hand, “sunflowers are definitely better.” He smirked over at Andrew then turned to dispose of the weeds and wash his hands.

Andrew shook his head and clamped down on a smile that he could somehow feel building up all the way from his toes. It was too weird a feeling, and he had already exposed enough today. Instead of saying anything else at the moment, Andrew moved to start portioning out their plates from the crock pot. He gave himself extra chicken and Neil more dumplings, slathering both with so much stew-like gravy they probably should have just used bowls. Neil took care of getting them each something to drink - water for himself and chocolate milk for Andrew. 

Before they sat down, Andrew permitted himself _one last_ indulgence. 

He pulled out one of the sunflowers and broke off the longest bit of the stem. As Neil watched him curiously, he reached up, tucked some of that unruly mass of auburn curl behind his rabbit’s ear, and situated the flower there. Neil blinked in surprise, then laughed, and it was a vision Andrew didn’t want to forget, so he pulled out his phone and Neil obliged him, letting him take the picture. The smile never faded, the laughter danced in his eyes. 

Andrew snorted, amused and entranced. Then Neil moved closer and kissed him sweetly on the cheek. He didn’t know why this always had an affect on him, but he could feel his cheeks heating. What didn’t help _at all_ was Neil’s lips coming right to his ear and his voice dipping low as he murmured, “Thanks, sweetheart.”

Something in his chest surged and his hands grasped at Neil’s hips, tugging him close while he hid his face against his stupid, idiot, foolish, ridiculous, beautiful rabbit’s throat. 

“Shut up,” he growled, and even that protest was weak, especially when he could now feel Neil’s laughter gently humming against his cheek. 

“Can I hold you?” Neil asked quietly, then, and the smile was still in his voice, though it was softer now. It was the same sound as the hum in his bones, steady and magnetized and drawing him straight to Neil. 

Andrew huffed a sigh, then he kissed his pulse. 

“Yes.”

Neil’s arm’s came around his shoulders and he felt the brush of his lips against his ear. 

The magnets in his blood hummed, soothed, as he settled right into place. They'd been pulling him to this, to here, to Neil. His home.


End file.
